by Janet Grace
For the rest of the meal he would favour the ladies with pronouncements of his opinions on events local or national, political or religious. He clearly considered the ladies of his family incapable of holding an opinion of their own at all.
Louisa, who had never lacked opinions or the chance to exercise them, found these meals horrific or hilarious, depending on the buoyancy of her spirits. She had at first ventured her own views on several subjects on which she believed she was reasonably well-informed. After his initial shock at meeting an articulate female with intelligible ideas, Mr. Addiscombe appeared to enjoy demanding her opinions on subjects that interested him, especially if he could then vigorously demolish them and provoke from her a response. This led to a situation where conversation, if it could be so called, would occur between the two of them to the utter exclusion of his wife and stepdaughter. Embarrassed, aware of her position as an employee, Louisa would endeavour to involve these two by some comment on the day’s events, and then retire from the conversation, only to be foiled by Mr. Addiscombe’s ruthless interruptions. She did not enjoy dinners.
This increased respect for her intellect had had beneficial results, however. When she had sought interviews to request materials for the schoolroom, Louisa had found Mr. Addiscombe abrupt but interested. New equipment had arrived promptly.
Apart from this, the master of the house was virtually never seen. He rarely left his study except for his daily ride, taken in the morning while the children were busy in the schoolroom, and if he partook of breakfast, or a luncheon, Louisa had seen no evidence of it. The children only saw him on Sundays when they were summoned to his study to recite the week’s collect and give some account of their recent activities before all the family attended church. But his influence was felt throughout the house. Silence was necessary outside his study. Nobody played in the garden near his window. Everyone walked in awe of his scathing comments. The fact that each night after dinner he retired again to his study until he went to bed was a source of enormous relief to the ladies. His arrival now left them horrified.
Mrs. Addiscombe gathered her wits a little.
‘This is a surprise, Mr. Addiscombe. Come and sit by the fire. The tea-tray has been ordered. Perhaps you would like some?’
These kind thoughts from his distracted wife were unfortunate. Mr. Addiscombe’s views on unnecessary fires on summer evenings, and on the ills resulting from tea-drinking, had frequently been heard by all present, but his restating of them now lasted while the tray was brought in and Louisa quietly poured out.
‘But that is not what I came to say, though it seems I cannot repeat my views too often.’
Mr. Addiscombe looked satisfied with his outburst as he stood complacently warming his back at the despised fire, and effectively blocking all heat from the rest of the company. He loftily surveyed the ladies who were seated around him, nervously sipping their tea. Louisa suppressed rebellious thoughts.
‘I had a visitor today.’
Mrs. Addiscombe’s face showed a wary interest at her husband’s pronouncement. This was an unusual occurrence.
‘It was concerning you, my dear.’ He turned to Georgiana and nodded sagely. ‘A gentleman named Mr. Blane. Came to ask my permission to pay his court to you. Dressed like a coxcomb, in my opinion, but I suppose it is what you ladies like and what all the best young men wear in town these days. Seemed a very civil young man; knew where to show respect. Very much the gentleman. Showed a great interest in my collection, and said he might be able to acquire me a specimen or two. I was pleasantly surprised, Georgiana.’ He paused, but no one dared venture a comment, although Georgiana’s face was white. ‘I have to say that I am surprised and shocked at the fickleness you seem to have shown to the young men of your acquaintance. At one time it was young Richard Cockcroft who seemed to haunt the place...’
‘That was over a year ago, Papa.’ Georgiana’s voice was little more than a whisper, and her face tight with anxiety.
He glared at her.
‘Then there was that Austin puppy, then the Fetton boy was forever here, and no doubt more I have forgotten. Giving just the sort of reputation I do not want for my stepdaughter. Such flirtatious behaviour may have suited your father’s family, but it won’t do in mine. However, this Mr. Blane...’ He beamed at her heavily, and she looked despairing. ‘I am not an unreasonable man. I have seen this gentleman call frequently over the past few weeks. I know he commands your mother’s approval, and I have allowed this to weigh with me. He tells me he has an estate some twenty miles from here that has been in the family over four hundred years. He is an older man, so perhaps you are at last becoming more settled and sensible in your ways. He obviously seems to have gained your affections, and from what he says you certainly command all his. So I gave him my permission to pay court to you, and my blessing for a speedy conclusion to the whole business. There, my dear. Are you not pleased? I feel I have acted very fairly in this.’ He rocked to and fro on the balls of his feet, legs astride, hands clasped behind his back, still taking all the heat from the fire. He oozed self-congratulatory complacency. He was visualising himself as the benevolent despot, ordering the lives of his subjects with a lordly wave of his hand, to their submissive gratitude and admiration.
He suddenly noticed Georgiana’s singular lack of these responses, and frowned.
‘Aren’t you going to thank me, girl?’
She flushed painfully and clasped her teacup tightly. ‘Thank you, Papa, you have been very kind. But, you see, I am not sure...’ She faltered. ‘I did not know...’
Her stepfather interrupted her impatiently. He had suddenly tired of his despotic role, and wished to return to his study.
‘Well, well, no need to say more. I know all young ladies are supposed to show modesty over these matters. We will take the rest as said. You had better write to your Aunt Alvira and let her know. I will leave you ladies now, you will want time for your idle gossip. Goodnight.’
He sailed out, well pleased with himself.
‘Oh, my dear!’ exclaimed Mrs. Addiscombe excitedly. She had only met Mr. Ferdinand once, but Mr. Blane had totally charmed her. She was impressed. ‘Oh, my lucky girl—such a charming man. How romantic. Well, I declare I quite envy you!’
Georgiana, her face a mask of tragedy, placed her teacup gently on the tray, turned, her shoulders heaving, and collapsed in a storm of hysterical tears on to the sofa.
When Louisa was eventually able to take her headache to bed, her patience with the occupants of the Grange was worn threadbare, and her rage at the cunning of Mr. Blane was boundless.
She had suddenly realised as she sat on the sofa, rocking the sobbing, gulping, sniffing Georgiana gently and sacrificing all her own handkerchiefs, while at the same time trying to make soothing conversation to a distraught Mrs. Addiscombe, who could not at all understand her daughter’s distress or why each time she mentioned dear Mr. Blane it produced a renewed bout of hysterics, that a combination of Mr. Blane’s cunning, assurance and luck, Mr. Addiscombe’s pomposity, Mrs. Addiscombe’s easygoing silliness and Georgiana’s youth might well see the Lyntrell fortune married to the mercenary Mr. Blane.
From the schoolroom window the next morning, Louisa saw John Ferdinand’s curricle sweep down the drive to the house. Alnstrop was driving, in fine style. Both men seemed to be laughing.
Louisa assured herself that it was only in order to enjoy the sunshine that she stood by the window, while the children laboriously listed on their slates all the countries of the world they had heard of. Only by chance had she happened to be watching when they arrived. She tried to ignore the part of her mind that strained to listen for footsteps on the stairs, coming to call her down.
She stood the globe on a table in the sunshine. Out of the window she could see Georgiana showing Mr. Ferdinand the rose-beds. Even at this distance, their delight in each other’s company was plain to see, and Louisa felt a stab of envy at their happiness.
The children came up
to find on the globe the countries they had listed, Geoffrey first. It was not until they had reached Isabel’s list, the longest one, and she was peering at the globe, frowning over the whereabouts of Ceylon, that the curricle was once again brought round to the front of the house. They all paused to watch as the small carriage with the lively bay horses swept away down the drive.
‘I wish they had come up to see us,’ said Geoffrey wistfully. ‘I liked those men.’
They never called me down. He has gone. They ignored me as if I did not exist. Louisa stared blindly at the globe, the wave of rage and hurt at her exclusion receding before the cold realisation that it would, of course, always be like this. No one would invite the governess to come down out of the schoolroom to meet morning visitors. They would know she was employed. She was a fool to have hoped.
‘Isn’t it, miss?’
She recalled her thoughts with a jerk and followed Isabel’s pointing finger.
‘Well done, Isabel. That is Ceylon. Not an easy one to find. Did the rest of you see? Look carefully. I shall want you all to point to Ceylon for me tomorrow. Now some seas. Back to your slates and list all the seas and oceans you know.’
Odd how easy it was to carry on.
It was not until Miss Stapely joined the ladies for luncheon in the small, sunny sitting-room reserved for their use that she heard of Lord Alnstrop’s kind suggestion. Then she heard of nothing else for the entire meal.
It was so kind. Such a thoughtful suggestion. Taking the children made it just the sort of family outing to which no one could take exception. And with dear Miss Stapely as chaperon, what could be more suitable? Dear Mr. Ferdinand. Georgiana blushed, her terrors of yesterday obviously in abeyance while she and her fickle-minded mama draped their talk with rosy visions. Such fun, and yet nothing to which even Papa could object! In fact, he had already given his blessing to the outing, saying that if Georgiana wished to assist Miss Stapely on educational schoolroom outings he was unlikely to wish to deter her. The fact that Mr. Ferdinand had also invited Georgiana to drive out with him that afternoon and see the blossom trees in the orchards, they had not mentioned to Papa, but Mama thought the idea charming.
Georgiana drew breath to explain to Louisa. Lord Alnstrop—who had asked after her, but they had explained she was busy teaching and could not come down had suggested a picnic. Naturally, as the elder brother, he would issue the invitation, but Georgiana was certain it must actually be Mr. Ferdinand’s idea. Louisa nodded, and waited for some sense to emerge.
There was, it seemed, an old quarry on Mr. Ferdinand’s estate, disused now, and overgrown with trees and bushes, like a woodland glade. In the rock-face the brothers had found numerous fossils, dead creatures, shells and suchlike, turned to stone. Lord Alnstrop had suggested the children might like to come and collect fossils for their nature study, while also enjoying a picnic. Miss Stapely would have to bring them of course, but surely that would be more interesting than working in the schoolroom all morning? Georgiana looked suddenly anxious.
‘You don’t mind, do you, dear Louisa? For I am afraid we have already accepted on your behalf.’
Louisa didn’t mind. It would be, she remarked casually, an excellent source of study for the children, and a pleasant break. It was most kind of Lord Alnstrop. No one was interested enough to notice the sudden lightening of her expression. Georgiana chattered on happily.
Mr. Ferdinand, it soon emerged, had said it was a beautiful place in which to eat beautiful food with a beautiful young lady. He was to order hampers of the very best provisions, their contents an exotic surprise. Could Georgiana engage to discover a beautiful young lady who would wish to come and share them with him? That young lady giggled delightedly at the memory, while her mother tut-tutted happily. Such a tease he was! She beamed contentedly, glad to see her dear daughter all smiles again.
Louisa chuckled inwardly watching her employer’s rapt expression as she encouraged Georgiana’s happy talk, and mused that Mr. Blane seemed quite forgotten. She peeled an apple thoughtfully, and wondered how that gentleman would react to the fickleness of Mrs. Addiscombe’s fancies.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The morning of the picnic dawned with all the promise of a summer’s day should have. An early light haze dissolved away before the sun’s warmth, leaving the world apparently newborn in pristine freshness.
Louisa was awoken early by the excited clatter of busy children’s feet in the night-nursery on the floor above her. She stood for a while in her nightgown at the open window, watching the mist wraiths twirl and fade across the meadows. It was impossible to dampen her own excitement. Everything—the sunlight, the beautiful, rolling countryside, the piercing bird-song, the happy calls of the children upstairs—seemed to conspire to fill her with this radiant delight of anticipation. This was going to be a perfect day.
She knew she was smiling, laughing even, alone at the windowsill. She knew she was being a fool, but she could not chide or stop herself. She had not felt this way since she was a small child, and the wonderfully exotic treats arranged by her father had indeed been perfect days.
The thought of her father sobered Louisa as she turned away from the window to dress, but not very much. The fizz of excitement bubbled within her, and she kept glancing at the clock with the same eagerness as the children.
She joined them in the nursery after breakfast, to find Annie still fussing over sunhats, bonnets and parasols.
‘Sunstroke is a nasty thing, Master Clifton, and you’ll wear your hat or you won’t go. I don’t want the nursing of your fever when you come back cooked like one of them prawns. Miss Stapely will agree.’
She glared at Louisa, daring her to undermine this stand. Louisa was far too wise to upset Annie. She was too valuable an ally in their small nursery world.
‘Anyone without a hat stays at home. Anyone taking their hat off on the picnic stays in the coach.’ She announced this firmly, Annie nodded grimly, and Clifton capitulated.
The entire party were waiting on the gravel drive before the men arrived, and the vast Addiscombe family coach had been brought round from the stables. There was nothing at Stoneham Manor large enough to accommodate such a party. Georgiana stood on the bottom step, a breathtaking picture of summer loveliness, and Louisa’s own excitement was mirrored in the girl’s face.
Louisa could not suppress an envious sigh as she watched her. Georgiana turned, catching Louisa’s eye, then skipped down the last step on to the gravel.
‘Louisa, I declare, you look lovely.’ She caught her companion’s arm. ‘Turn around and let me look.’
Louisa laughed and complied. She had broken her rule of demure governess greys during the day for the first time since she had arrived at Stoneham Grange. The dress she had chosen, though plain, was a soft green silk, while her gloves, shawl and parasol were cream. She had softened her usually severe hairstyle, too, into gentle waves to frame her face, and had trimmed her faded old bonnet with new green bows to match her dress. She had given great thought to her choice from her meagre wardrobe, and now flushed with self-conscious pleasure at Georgiana’s whole-hearted approval.
It was thus a charming picture that greeted Alnstrop and his brother as they swung round the curve of the drive and up to the front of the house, with Fitton, John’s tiger, perched nonchalantly on the back of the curricle. But the picture shattered even as they appreciated it. The children erupted into excited activity, and Louisa sprang forward to pull Geoffrey back from under the wheels.
‘I was nowhere near, Miss Stapely. Truly.’
He wriggled free to run forward and bounce eagerly, gazing up, his face on a level with John’s boot.
‘We are all ready, Mr. Ferdinand. Can we start immediately?’
Over the children’s heads Alnstrop smiled at Louisa, his face filled with amusement at the sight of her, flushed and flustered, besieged by noisy children.
‘Children in the carriage!’ he ordered briskly, and amid their scrambled figh
t for the carriage door he jumped lightly down from the curricle and took Louisa’s hand.
‘May I tell you how delightful you look, Miss Stapely? All the weather gods seem to have smiled on us today, so let us proceed to take your menagerie for an airing!’
His laughing eyes robbed the words of any sting, and she laughed back at him.
‘I sometimes feel I could donate them all to a pleasure garden monkey-house and no one would be any the wiser! But they are so excited at your outing, they have had nothing like it before. It is such a kind idea, I do thank you.’ She turned a little, and caught sight of Georgiana climbing nimbly up into the curricle with John.
‘Are we taking the curricle also?’
Robert raised an arm in a farewell wave to his brother, and steered Louisa over to the carriage.
‘John can go ahead and choose a spot to eat, Fitton can help unload the hampers, and Georgiana can practise her driving skills again. John assures me she is making great progress, and has an iron nerve! You, my dear, will sit up by me while I nurse along that couple of slugs pulling your cartload of monkeys!’
He regarded the equipage with humorous distaste as he handed Miss Stapely up.
‘I don’t think that I should leave the children alone inside,’ she said, pausing anxiously as she envisaged the free fight that might ensue.
‘Don’t fuss, girl!’ his lordship ordered with a satisfying assumption of authority. He turned and thumped the roof of the carriage sharply.