Miss Knapp, who had as the first ever guest a certain standing in the house in her own and everyone else’s eyes, including Tilly’s, spoke so firmly that Tilly wavered even more. Miss Knapp, she recalled, together with Miss Fleetwood, had been set against there ever being male guests in Quentin’s but had given in to the suggestion from Tilly when Mr Gee had first requested a room, albeit with great concern. They had agreed only because Tilly had assured them he would be quiet and well mannered, and had been most generous in their admission that their fears of the house being ruined by masculinity had been unfounded. So now, if Miss Knapp wanted Tilly to accept Sophie and gave such good reasons for doing so, shouldn’t Tilly be equally magnanimous? And hadn’t she too been wondering whether she had unfairly tarred Sophie with her mother’s brush?
‘Oh dear,’ she said aloud. ‘It is difficult sometimes to know just what is right.’
‘Then I think in that case you should give way to others’ counsel,’ advised Miss Knapp. ‘I shall speak to Miss Fleetwood and see what she says and let you know.’ She got to her feet magisterially and shook out her skirts.
‘And to Miss Barnetsen?’ Tilly asked and Miss Knapp frowned.
‘Not at all. She came here after we did and has no voice in the matter,’ she said stiffly and went across the room to speak in a low voice to Miss Fleetwood, who had been sitting observing Sophie with as much absorption as everyone else.
Tilly watched them as they whispered together, as much in a state of confusion as ever. It seemed absurd that someone as sensible as she thought herself to be, who ran this large and very busy household with very little trouble, should be confused by so simple a matter as whether or not to accept a particular guest for a room she had to spare, but there it was. Her own emotions were entangled in this decision through Duff and her memories of Dorcas and that made it hard for her to think sensibly.
Now she would, she told herself, be sensible and listen to her oldest guests, who would be as concerned as she was to maintain the happiness and health of the house, for their interests were her interests. And vice versa. I shall do just as they say, she promised herself again, as Miss Knapp straightened her back and returned to the chair at Tilly’s side.
‘And that is how it happened,’ Tilly said to Eliza, as they stood at the front door watching Rosie and Lucy bring in the many boxes and bags that comprised Sophie Oliver’s luggage. ‘I was, I cannot deny, in a great lather about it. You were not here or I would have spoken to you too, although of course, the decision has to be mine.’
‘Of course, Mum,’ Eliza said woodenly and stood there with her reddened hands carefully crossed on her blue gaberdine gown. Above her neat white collar her face had the round redness of a new apple, but there was none of the usual good humour in her expression. She looked, indeed, almost as though she were scowling.
‘Really, Eliza, I did not decide in haste!’ she said, now irritated. ‘I was, I don’t deny, in some confusion about whether or not she should come to us, but as Miss Knapp pointed out, we must not regard her except as herself! To feel she is but an extension of her mother, and bears her faults in herself, is hardly just!’
‘Miss Knapp said that?’ Eliza said and swivelled her eyes sideways to look at her.
‘Indeed she did,’ Tilly said firmly.
‘Hmm,’ said Eliza, who held Miss Knapp’s opinion in high regard. ‘I s’pose she should know, Mum.’
‘Indeed she should, for she taught Sophie just as she taught Duff! And Duff of course will be delighted, won’t he.’ She tried to make the last a statement rather than a question and seemed to succeed, for Eliza nodded.
‘Well, there’s no question of that, Mum,’ she conceded. ‘When Mr Duff gets back, he’ll be well pleased, I’m sure. I dare say I’m not being fair at that. It’s just that I remember so well, Mum, the way that Mrs Leander treated me and the way that Dorcas put airs on and –’
‘The sins of the parent – and grandparent – are not necessarily those of the child,’ Tilly said, and again was very firm. ‘We must be fair, Eliza.’
‘We don’t have much choice now, Mum,’ Eliza said with a flash of humour as Rosie toiled up the steps with the final box and at last the cab went bowling away, leaving Sophie to pick her delicate way up the steps, her skirts held high out of the dust to display a very pretty pair of kid boots encasing the most elegant of ankles. ‘Seein’ as she’s here. I’ll be off to my kitchen, Mum, if you’ll excuse me.’ She turned to go. ‘Though I have to say there’s somethin’ botherin’ me still about this whole business, only I can’t put my finger on it, like. But I dare say I’m just being foolish.’ And away she went in a rustle of crisp gaberdine as Sophie arrived in the hall, smiling up at Tilly as she stepped over the threshold.
‘Well, this is nice, dear Aunt Tilly,’ she said. ‘I feel so happy to be returning home! I have the first of my payments ready so we shall settle that before we do anything else –’
‘Oh, no!’ Tilly was mortified. ‘I present the bills at the end of each month.’
‘But I insist,’ Sophie said. ‘It would not be right not to pay in advance. I feel that most strongly. It is asking too much of you, even though you knew me in childhood, to take me on trust. So, if you please, we will settle this now. I will have to take my bags out at once and move on if you refuse me!’ And she smiled at Tilly.
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ Tilly said and turned away. ‘Such a fuss! Of course you may pay in advance if you choose – some people do on occasion, of course, if they are to stay only a short time, so it is not all that – anyway, come along to my room where I deal with such matters.’
It was not until she had put away her books, locked in her box the sovereigns that Sophie put into her hand and given her a receipt, and sent Lucy to take her to her room and assist her in settling in, that Tilly realized what she had done. She had been given the opportunity to turn Sophie away at the very last minute. If she had refused to take her payment in advance Sophie had said that she would take her boxes and leave, at once. And Tilly had taken her money.
Clearly, she thought, this was inevitable. I don’t know why I made such a fuss. Sophie is home, as she says, and here to stay, and why should she not be? She can do no harm to anyone.
Chapter Thirteen
‘I BELIEVE ALL is going well,’ Tilly said carefully. ‘It would indeed appear that I worried needlessly, so forgive me for seeming to have been ungrateful to you, Jem. I was nasty –’
‘Well, I did warn you that there might be trouble,’ Jem said. ‘So I was quite prepared for your doubts. And you were not nasty. I have never known you to be so, and don’t think you could be. Ever.’
She did not look at him, not wanting to encourage him to make any more declarations of approval of her; they all too easily turned into declarations of affection and she suffered enough guilt over Jem as it was. Instead she concentrated on the sewing she had in her lap, keeping her head down.
‘She is most charming about the house, I must say. At breakfast she keeps everyone cheerful and starts the day off for everyone most agreeably. There are some new people here, since the McCools and the Lampeters went – they are from France, and they have a young daughter of about Sophie’s age. She is, I am afraid, sadly plain, but she seems to be on excellent terms with Sophie and they go about together and shop and so forth and chatter away in French. Sophie seems very glad to have the opportunity to improve her grasp of the language.’
‘And is that all she does?’ Jem said, leaning back in his chair. He had been sitting forwards, a little eagerly but at Tilly’s rejection of his warm words had accepted his congé, just as he usually did. ‘Has she no other occupation?’
‘Oh, she rides in the morning with Silas,’ Tilly said, her head still down over her needle.
‘Silas?’ Jem’s voice sharpened a little.
Tilly felt herself redden. ‘Mr Geddes.’
‘You have become good friends, then.’ Jem’s voice sounded as usual, but Till
y was not deceived. He was hurt that she should be on first name terms with a man other than himself, and now she lifted her chin and looked at him.
‘It was impossible not to,’ she said. ‘He has been – well, he was very kind to Duff, you know. Took him riding when he was so miserable the day after – when he drank too much, you remember, and generally helped him greatly. I tried to insist we remain a little aloof, but when a person is your son’s friend, you know, it is difficult to be formal.’
She knew she was being mendacious, but it had been worth it, for now Jem relaxed again, content with her explanation.
‘Ah, I see,’ he said. ‘Of course, if he has become Duff’s friend then there is every reason that – tell me, when will Duff return? It will be most interesting to hear of his experiences in Leicestershire.’ He looked around the drawing room where they were sitting so comfortably on this warm afternoon, and shook his head in a sort of awe. ‘Who would have thought that I, the son of a shopkeeper, would be so comfortable to visit in such a room as this? It is beyond possibility that I will ever spend time in a duke’s house, but to be so warmly acquainted with people who do, and to be able to hear about it from their own lips is most –’
‘Oh, pooh!’ Tilly said vigorously, glad the subject had been turned and therefore being a little more vigorous than she might have been. ‘I will not be impressed by grandeur, and nor should you, Jem. You are worth as much as any duke, I do assure you and your home is as elegant as his, in its own way, and no less special than this one. You must not let notions such as these hold you down.’
He lifted his brows at her. ‘Well! You speak like Daniel Carter, who keeps the farrier’s shop up near Knightsbridge Barracks! He is a republican, he swears, and yearns for the day when we have a Commonwealth again as in Cromwell’s time and wants an end to lords and ladies. Are you such a one? I never thought so.’
‘Well, the new thinking, you know, is most interesting. I have been so busy about running my house that I have not thought as much as I might about wider affairs, but I am now remedying that. I have been to a couple of meetings of the Society for the Propagation of Scientific and Philosophic Knowledge and learned much. It is not inevitable, you know, that there should be those who have all the wealth and others who suffer poverty, any more than it is right that one class of person should always be regarded as subservient to another. Are we not all of the same species? Do we not all develop from the same source?’
‘Darwin,’ Jem said with an air of discovery. ‘You have been hearing the ideas of Darwin.’
‘And why not?’ Tilly looked at him sharply. ‘They are very interesting and show the way to an understanding of the world that I never had before.’
Jem looked troubled. ‘Well, as to that, I cannot deny that widening one’s understanding is a good thing, but is it a good thing to set the world upside down? And it can’t be anything but upside down to take the world as God made it and seek to find new reasons for it.’
‘Well,’ Tilly said, knowing she would shock Jem sorely but feeling a little reckless, ‘as to God making the world, precisely – we cannot even be sure of that. The story told in the Bible is an agreeable one, to be sure, but hardly likely, in any scientific way. I find Mr Darwin’s ideas much more acceptable.’
‘Dear me!’ said Jem, staring. ‘You have indeed learned new ideas, Tilly! I am quite amazed.’ He was silent for a while and then went on, ‘And did you just go to these meetings because –’ He stopped, leaving the question hanging in the air, looking at her anxiously.
She had to answer it. ‘Mr Geddes invited me,’ she said, her head still down over her industrious needle. ‘He thought I might be interested and as I told you, I find that I am. Now, Jem, will you take some more Malmsey? I have this bottle set aside just for you, since I know it to be a favourite with you.’
‘You’re very kind,’ Jem said abstractedly and accepted his refilled glass from her hand. ‘These meetings –’
‘Well, if you wish you must come sometime,’ Tilly said and put aside her sewing. ‘Now, if you will forgive me, my dear friend. I must go and deal with the matter of tonight’s dinner. As you know, Duff will return this afternoon, in a couple of hours or so in my estimation, and we must welcome him home properly!’
‘Yes, indeed,’ Jem said. ‘Shall I be on my way then?’ He sounded defeated, prepared as always to do as she asked him, but far from happy and she leaned forwards and patted his hand affectionately.
‘Oh, Jem, of course not! You stay here as long as you choose and rest and drink your Malmsey. I wish only to check matters with Eliza. She is the one who is doing all the work, of course. She and Lucy – if I seek to join in today I fear she’ll be most put out! But there may be stores she needs and I have the keys. I shall return in a few moments.’ And she escaped.
It was true that she would have at some time to dole out Eliza’s special stores, but her main concern had been to be free of Jem for a little while. It was her own fault that he had become so heavy all of a sudden; she should not have mentioned the way her mind was moving under Silas Geddes’s prompting and certainly should not have mentioned Silas Geddes’s name. Jem’s affection for her was too deep and true and constant to be so abused, she thought as she went downstairs, her skirts whispering on the steps behind her. To let him know that there is another man whose attentions are not unwelcome to me is hardly fair.
Not unwelcome to me. She stopped in the hallway, just before the green baize door that led to the kitchen stairs and pondered. She had been trying not to think about the matter this past few days, but without success. Since Sophie had arrived, somehow she had been forced to think about it. And she did not like what she discovered in the depths of her mind and heart.
Silas Geddes had become too interesting to her. She found his conversation absorbing, his company deeply enjoyable, his physical presence exciting. When he came into the drawing room in the evenings she knew it even if she was not actually looking at the door to see him; it was as though a new lamp had been fetched in to make the whole room brighter. If he lingered to talk to other people before coming to sit beside her and talk to her, she became restless and irritable. And worst of all, resentful.
It was that which perturbed her most. Life had changed at Quentin’s since Sophie Oliver had moved in. Now, rather than everyone scattering about their own affairs in the evenings or going to their rooms, they all congregated in the drawing room for at least an hour after dinner, often longer, while Sophie and the young men played and sang and made jokes. There was much laughter and jollity and it was clear that the social atmosphere in the house had risen considerably. ‘Every night is like a party,’ as Miss Fleetwood had said with an odd mix of waspishness and approval and everyone liked it that way.
Including Silas Geddes. He would come into the drawing room after everyone else, as a rule, having the habit of taking a brisk walk along the road after meals, ‘for the sake of my digestion’, as he would say, and Tilly would be there in her usual chair, presiding over the coffee and tea trays and waiting for him. She tried to pretend she was not, tried to avoid noticing when he arrived, but it was impossible. She was, every evening, on tenterhooks until he arrived, tense with a sort of animal excitement that startled her, but which she had to admit she enjoyed.
And he would stop beside the piano to speak to Sophie and make a jocular comment of some kind, and every time it felt as though someone had pushed a sharp pointed stick into her ribs and made her breath catch. Usually he would come to sit beside her almost immediately; he rarely lingered by the piano among everyone else for longer than a few moments, but it always disturbed her to see him with them.
Am I jealous? she asked herself bleakly, staring at the green baize on the door and her hand on the fastening. At my age, am I jealous of a slip of a girl young enough to be my daughter? One I have known since her infancy? How can that be?
‘Very easily,’ she murmured aloud and bit her lip and glanced behind her to see if anyone had ov
erheard. She must be more careful; her habit of introspection and speaking aloud to herself had always been a part of her. But now it could betray her deepest feelings and they had to be secret.
I shall ask Silas to take Jem to a meeting as well, she thought then as, at last, she pushed the door open and ‘Went down the stairs into the kitchen. That will reassure Jem that I am still his good friend and will show Silas that he is not alone in finding my company agreeable and will somehow help me to understand how foolish I am being. For I am too old and too set in my ways to even consider a new attachment to a man. Is it not bad enough I have been married twice? I cannot possibly wish to change my situation now.
In the kitchen it was clear that Eliza was in one of her rare takings. Generally a sweet-tempered woman of great capability, there were times when she did become ruffled and less in control of matters than she might be, and when that happened to Eliza, everyone around her, with the exception of Tilly of course, suffered it. Her tongue became razor sharp and her speed of work quite terrifying. She would whirl about her domain like a dervish, getting through a vast amount of work and expect her minions to be as fast and capable as she was herself. Since no one could be, the result was Eliza in a rage with them and they in tears and sulks. Tilly now walked into the middle of just such a scene.
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