‘You see, Eliza, that is the truth of the matter, and if you think anything else you are deceiving yourself. My advice to you is to be obedient to the wishes of your family, which are made in your interests not theirs. Obviously a renewed acquaintance with Lord Thornwell is now quite out of the question, so you must profit as much as you can from your stay in Holland. From what I have seen this very day, I think it should be brought forward. I think you should leave next week and not linger here another moment.’
‘Whatever for?’
‘I believe you know what I mean, Eliza. Mr Yetman is an attractive man, but he is far beneath you socially. In Holland we would call him a peasant. I did not like to see a lady of quality so much at ease in the company of such a person. I must tell you, my dear, that if you do not agree to go to Holland as soon as possible, I shall be forced to tell your brother and mother exactly what occurred today. Believe me, that will cause a family row of the first order – one that you will surely live to regret.’
5
The late afternoon sun cast its long beams across the shining, polished flagstones of the downstairs room as Ryder took one last look round the cottage. Everything was ready for his bride: the house spruce and spotless inside and out, the thatching finished, the garden, back and front, neat and tidy, with vegetables and flowers already showing their heads above the ground. Beyond the garden was an orchard and, beyond that, the fields where Ryder thought he would keep his few sheep and a cow to provide fresh milk in the morning.
But Maude still showed no enthusiasm for living there, even though he had shown her round two days before. She had been solemn, unsmiling, detached, uninterested. He felt there was more of a gulf between them than ever, but there was no way of telling how she really felt about him. Reserved Maude had always been, and this was the way she continued. However, that very evening they were to see the Rector to discuss the plans for the wedding, the reading of the banns, the date for the marriage itself.
Loving one woman, Ryder was being forced into marriage with another. He had no choice.
Carefully he locked the front door and strode over to Piper, his horse, who was tethered to the post where Eliza had tethered Lady. Every moment that she’d spent with him in the house was precious; everything she’d touched was sacred.
With a deep sigh he unhitched Piper and, springing on to his back, rode off, making a sharp detour so that he could see as much as possible of Pelham’s Oak, serene on top of the hill. Its grandeur seemed to symbolise the gulf between himself and Eliza. He was the son of a countryman, a builder; she, the daughter of a baronet.
Ryder completed the circuit of Pelham’s Oak wondering if Eliza had looked out and seen him. Once the house was out of sight he gave Piper a sharp tap on the flank and cantered home. Waiting for him at the gate of Riversmead was Agnes, her hat in her hand as though she had just returned from a walk, or a trip to the shops.
‘I saw you coming,’ she called, swinging open the gate, and as he passed through he smiled at her and held out his hand.
Ryder was eight years older than Agnes, and for most of her adolescence he had not lived at home. Although she loved and admired him, she didn’t feel entirely at ease with him. Hat still in her hand, she followed him up the drive and round to the stable, and as he jumped off Piper and unsaddled him, she leaned against the stable wall watching him.
‘Have you been at your cottage?’
‘Yes.’
‘Father seems upset you’re not working for him so much.’
‘I have to get the cottage ready,’ Ryder said, beginning to rub Piper down, his mind clearly on his task.’
‘For Maude?’ Agnes gave a brittle laugh.
‘I don’t know why you laugh like that, Agnes,’ Ryder said reprovingly, looking round. ‘She’s got to live there.’
‘She won’t.’
‘I think she will. She was there two nights ago and made not a squeak of protest.’
Ryder finished his work on the horse. Then he went over to a tub that stood by the wall and, taking several handfuls of oats, began to fill a bucket to feed Piper.
‘I don’t think you want to wed her,’ Agnes said slyly.
‘I asked her, didn’t I?’
‘If you really wanted her you’d do what she wanted. Get a bigger house.’
‘If she really wanted me she’d do what I want. She’ll have to. I love that cottage.’ Ryder stood up, his eyes glinting as though he were seeing it in his mind’s eye: seeing it with someone very different living there with him.
‘Anyway, Maude’ll be here soon,’ Agnes said. ‘She sent a message.’
Ryder nodded. ‘We’re going to see the Rector. See? It’s all fixed.’ With a heavy heart Ryder finished his task, and as the horse greedily munched its feed he put on his coat and prepared to go into the house.
‘Ryder,’ Agnes said, a note of urgency in her voice.
‘Yes?’
‘It’s about Mother.’
‘What about Mother?’ Anxiously he screwed up his eyes.
‘She’s not well. I can tell.’
‘Then she must go and see the doctor.’
‘He says it’s nothing. It’s her time of life.’
‘But is there anything really to worry about?’
‘It’s not like Mother to be so weak, to spend so much time in her bed.’
‘I know nothing about women’s problems,’ Ryder said gruffly. But he was worried. If Agnes had discerned enough to mention it, why hadn’t he? Maybe because he was too preoccupied with his own problems, too self-absorbed.
‘You are a good girl, Agnes.’ He reached out to touch her. ‘I wish you could be happy, married to a man you loved. Now Herbert ...’
Agnes gave a wild laugh and flung back her head.
‘Oh, don’t mention that silly man’s name.’
‘But he’s not silly. He’s clever and he’s nice. His prospects are excellent.’
‘But I don’t love him.’ Agnes stamped her foot peevishly. ‘And, what’s more, I don’t think I will ever meet anyone I can love here in Wenham.’
‘There are plenty of nice men in Wenham, and hereabouts.’
‘Hm!’ Agnes snorted derisively. ‘It depends what you mean by “nice”. I don’t find any of them “nice” enough to attract me.’ She caught at the lapel of his coat and gently pulled him towards her. ‘I would so like to go to London, only Mother and Father won’t let me.’
‘London?’ Ryder looked surprised. ‘Why, it’s an awful place.’
‘You think so, but I don’t.’
‘You’ve never been there.’
‘But I’d love to go.’ She let him go and clasped her hands together, her eyes gleaming. ‘I could stay with Aunt Emma. I’m sure that there I’d meet someone I really liked, could really love, someone worthy of me ...’
‘Worthy of you!’ Ryder gave a snort.
‘Yes, worthy of me, Ryder. I don’t consider any of the men here are really worthy of me.’
As they resumed their walk and rounded the stables, Ryder drew her to a bench on the lawn and, sitting her firmly down, sat next to her and looked at her earnestly.
‘We are country people, we Yetmans. Our great-grandparents tilled the soil,’ he said.
‘Our grandfather was a builder ...’
‘But before that, humble folk.’
‘Not any more.’ She thrust her chin defiantly in the air.
‘Father may have made money, but we are simple ordinary folk.’
‘I don’t feel ordinary,’ Agnes protested. ‘I feel special, and I want to marry someone special. Like ... like Sir Guy.’
‘Guy Woodville!’ Ryder gave an explosive laugh and jumped up. ‘You are getting ideas above your station, my dear sister. Anyway, he already has a wife.’
‘Someone like him.’ Agnes’s pert little tongue darted out, moistening her lips. ‘Rich, titled and very good-looking.’
Just then they were interrupted by a noise at the gate. Peter, the g
ardener, who had been weeding in one of the herbaceous borders, went over to open it and Maude drove through in her small pony and trap. She drew up in front of the porch just as Agnes and Ryder reached her. She looked pretty and summery in a muslin dress and a straw bonnet, and as she looked at Ryder she smiled at him. He opened the door of the trap and, taking her hand, helped her out.
‘Peter, there are some oats in the yard. Give a handful to the horse and water him. Miss Brough wall be some time.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Peter said smartly, leading the pony and trap round the side of the house.
‘Tonight is the night,’ Agnes cried, kissing her future sister-in-law on the cheek.
‘What do you mean?’ Maude looked at her coolly.
‘Very exciting.’ Agnes seemed surprised. ‘Aren’t you excited about going to see the Rector and having the banns called?’
‘Very,’ Agnes said, but her expression remained impassive. ‘What time are we expected, Ryder?’
Ryder took his watch from his pocket and studied it. For a moment his eyes seemed obscured by a mist which was slow to clear.
‘Six o’clock.’
His expression, too, was wooden, but his heart was beating rapidly. The die was about to be cast.
‘Ryder spent all day getting the cottage nice for you,’ Agnes continued a little maliciously. ‘In fact our father says he spends more time there than on his work.’
‘I know Ryder, he’s very thorough,’ Maude said with a schoolmistressy smile of approval.
‘You mean you don’t mind going to live there now?’ Agnes looked surprised.
‘A woman must be obedient to her husband,’ Maude said primly. ‘It’s in the marriage vows.’
The Rector of Wenham, the Reverend Austin Lamb, looking across his large desk, decided he had rarely seen a less likely pair of lovebirds. They sat at a distance from each other, scarcely glanced at each other, and when questioned replied in monosyllables: ‘yes’, ‘no’, ‘perhaps’, ‘maybe’.
Frequently there were long silences during which the Rector gazed at them keenly as if wondering whether they were too timid to speak. Engaged couples were usually alert, excited, a little apprehensive, shy; but here he had a mature pair – a man and a woman who seemed curiously unmoved by the thought of their impending union.
The Reverend Lamb was not at all like his name. He was a fierce, bigoted, rather frightening man who had few of the charitable virtues extolled in the Bible which he cited so often. He was a man of fire and brimstone. If he were to be believed, there would be few places in heaven for the majority of his docile, blameless congregation, who cowered in front of him, Sunday after Sunday, victims of his hour-long perorations on doom and perdition.
Rather than listening to engaged couples, candidates for confirmation or the ministry, he preferred haranguing his innocent flock from the pulpit, gazing down at them as though they were lost sheep penned up in their pews.
The Rectory, next to Wenham church, was a huge stone house which had been built in the early years of the century. Some would have said it was more fitting for a nobleman than a servant of God, since it had twelve bedrooms, four or five reception rooms, and accommodation for ten servants in addition to the family. The Rector incumbent when the house was built had eighteen children and had been married twice.
Even today the Reverend Lamb, who had but one young daughter, kept a good table and enjoyed living well.
Finally in exasperation he broke the silence by looking at the heavy clock which ticked loudly on the mantelpiece.
‘Well, if you have no further questions ... Mr Yetman?’
‘No, Rector.’
‘Miss Brough?’
‘No, Rector.’
‘Then we have to fix the day. The important day.’ The Rector drew his diary towards him. ‘Let me see, if we call the first banns next Sunday. How about ...’ He ran his finger down the calendar. ‘September? Is September a good month?’
‘September is excellent,’ Ryder said, surprised he could speak, because his throat felt dry and his lips parched. ‘You think September, Maude?’
He turned to his fiancée and looked, at last, into her eyes.
Her expression was unfathomable but she smiled as if in agreement. Somehow Ryder felt that she couldn’t trust herself to speak. Was she happy, sad, nervous, frightened? It was hard to know. Her behaviour was very strange.
‘Well, that’s all,’ the Rector said, closing his diary with a thump and, joining his hands, he gazed at them. ‘I have explained everything to you, I think. The meaning of marriage, its purpose, above all its solemnity. God made it a sacrament. Now, all I can give you, my children, is my blessing and wish you well.’ Coming round the desk, he placed a hand on the head of each and muttered a few inaudible words.
Then he escorted them to the door and stood in the porch watching them as they took the path along by the churchyard to the river. He shook his head. Had he not known Maude Brough so well, had he not been so sure her virtue was impeccable, he might have wondered if she were being forced into marriage by necessity. But no, not Maude. Besides, as a practical matter, her figure was too trim.
For a while Maude and Ryder walked side by side without speaking. It was a beautiful evening, the air vibrant with the sound of bees, the song of birds in the lush green trees. In front of them the Wen cut the valley in two, and beyond was Wenham Hill and the wood where Ryder and his brothers had played as children.
‘Ryder!’ Maude stopped abruptly, and as Ryder stopped too he could see on her face the signs of some inner struggle. Her expression surprised, almost shocked him.
‘Maude ...’
‘Ryder. I ...’
She seemed to have difficulty in finding words to express what she wanted to say, and Ryder gently prompted her.
‘Do say what you have on your mind, Maude. Is it the cottage?’
‘No, Ryder, it’s more important than that. In fact ... I don’t know how to go on ...’ and to Ryder’s consternation Maude slumped to the ground and put her head in her hands. Anxiously he sat down beside her.
‘Maude, are you not well?’
‘Oh, Ryder,’ she gasped looking up at him. Suddenly she put her head in her hands again and tears started to trickle down her cheeks. Why someone normally so impassive should behave like this he was at a loss to explain.
‘I don’t know how I can tell you this, Ryder ...’ she said, trying to control herself. ‘You have been so good, done so much, the cottage, everything ...’
‘The cottage ...’ He attempted to smile.
‘It’s simply that ... there’s someone else,’ she burst out, not allowing him to finish. ‘I have been so weak allowing it to go this far, and to break the news to you today, when we have actually seen the Rector, arranged for the banns to be called ... just because I had not the courage to speak before ... I feel so ashamed.’
‘You mean you love another man?’ Ryder asked incredulously. ‘You don’t wish us to be married, Maude?’
‘How can I when there is another?’ Her tears had dried up, but now she began to wring her hands. ‘I don’t expect you to understand, or even forgive me. I know the humiliation for you will be considerable, but you must blame me not yourself. I will take the blame and make sure that everyone in the town knows it. You are so good, Ryder –’ she managed a tearful smile ‘– so correct ... a little stubborn on the matter of the cottage, I’ll agree, but one can only admire firmness in a man. I have deceived you, misled you ... But you see, there is someone at the school ... he is not at all like you ... a scholar, indeed an invalid ... but ...’
‘Maude, I do understand,’ Ryder said, his hand closing over hers, trying hard to keep the relief from his voice. ‘Please don’t distress yourself.’
‘Then you will release me from our engagement?
‘Of course.’
‘But an engagement is a solemn undertaking.’
‘I will not hold you to it. I would not dream of it ...’
&nbs
p; ‘But the little cottage was so perfect, you put so much love into it ...’
‘Ah yes.’ Ryder hung his head, but only because he did not wish to hurt her by letting her see the joy in his eyes.
Lally ... she wore her hair like a crown round her head, tight little blonde curls in front and a mass of tiny ringlets behind. Her skin was the texture of a softly ripened peach: flawless. Her eyes were the colour of cornflowers, and as for her figure it defied description.
Since their first meeting in the gambling club he had learned more about her; a little, not much, because his darling was very secretive. She was a dancer at the Alhambra Theatre of Varieties and she told him very little about her origins or her past; but she had aspirations, that was clear. She was ambitious and wished either to climb higher in her profession or make a very good match.
But what she was or where she came from didn’t matter at all, because he loved her: deeply, passionately, sometimes he wondered if it were irrevocably too. Guy had had many affairs with loose women and chorus girls, but there was something about Lally that touched his very depths, a mysterious intangible quality that he had never discovered in a woman before. She gave herself, but only so much, and her smile was as enigmatic as the Mona Lisa’s. She kept something of herself back and, because of it, he gave her his heart.
Lally’s boarding house in Drury Lane was mainly occupied by ladies of the acting and other professions. One of the professions was known as the world’s oldest, and many girls who wanted to be dancers or actresses were forced to join its ranks in order to make ends meet. Some never left it. Thus in the tall Georgian house with its crumbling paint and peeling wallpaper, people were coming and going all day and all night.
The cab stopped in Drury Lane and Guy, looking anxiously up at Lally’s window, threw a few coins at the driver and then sprinted up the steps and through the front door, which always remained open.
He ran up the stairs two at a time to the third floor and tapped on the door before slowly turning the handle.
The People of This Parish (Part One of The People of this Parish Saga) Page 11