by Hazel Holt
“No, they could hardly do so in the circumstances.” She was silent for a while and then she said, “Miss Cowper, the information I gave you, regarding Mr Russell and myself….”
“Yes?”
“You may have thought it odd that Mr Russell has made no announcement.”
“About your engagement? No, indeed, it would have been most unsuitable to have made such an announcement at such a time.”
“That is what mama tells me and that I must learn to be patient for things will come out right in the end. “
“I am sure, Miss West, that your mother has the matter very much in hand.”
“Oh, do you think so?”
“I am sure of it.” And I am convinced that Mrs West will do everything in her power to make sure that her scheme succeeds.
“You have told no-one of our engagement?” she enquired anxiously. I assured her that her secret is safe, since I am persuaded that you will not betray it. “Mama says it is very important that dear James should seek an appropriate time to tell his uncle of our plans, especially, she says, since the case is complicated by the circumstances of Mrs Woodstock’s death.”
“Of course.”
“I cannot imagine why that horrid Sir Matthew should make such a fuss about it, bringing in Sir Edward to cause all this commotion. Do you know Sir Edward, Miss Cowper? What manner of man is he?”
“I believe he is a sensible man who will do his duty as a magistrate.”
She sighed. “That is what mama says and it is so tiresome that this stupid business should put off our announcement. James has not called upon us once since it started and he barely spoke to me at the Assembly.”
Miss West, I must tell you, was wearing a most unusual bonnet decorated with fruit – cherries and Orleans plums – which you may think presented an odd appearance, but, in fact, was quite charming, though, of course it is more natural to have flowers growing out of the head than fruit!
You are very kind in planning presents for me to make, and our mother has shown me exactly the same attention; but as I do not choose to have generosity dictated to me, I shall not resolve on giving my little cabinet to Anne till the first thought has been my own.
I have been much exercised in my mind as to whether I should tell Sir Edward about James Russell’s secret engagement as it was, after all, told to me in confidence. Since you, My Dear Charlotte, have always been the keeper of my conscience, I appeal to you for guidance in this matter. My own inclination is to remain silent until circumstances force my hand, though I do admit that this is mere procrastination, ever a fault of mine as you will be the first to point out.
You ask about the black butter. The first pot was opened and proved not at all what it ought to be; it was neither solid nor entirely sweet, and on seeing it Lucy remembered that you had said you did not think it had been boiled enough. Such being the event of the first pot, we did not save the second, and therefore ate it in unpretending privacy; and part of it was very good.
Our mother joins with me in sending love to Mary and the dear children
Yours affectionately,
E.C.
13th September
My Dear Charlotte,
I was not surprised at your answer to my problem, having anticipated the one even before I put the other. You are quite in the right, of course, to say that I must tell Sir Edward of Mr Russell’s secret engagement, since he needs to be in full possession of the facts so that he may make a proper judgement. So much for right and reason. I, however, in my own unreasonable way am still reluctant to do so and will leave it awhile to see what else may happen. So the scrupulously right and proper thing may be laid to one side to accommodate another sort of scruple entirely! All of which would make a very pretty sermon for Mr Wilmot if I were able to put it to him.
We have seen nothing of Sir Edward so far, but our father did speak to our mother and to me about the matter, saying that indeed it was our duty to give Sir Edward what information was necessary for the advancement of the enquiry but he knew that we would never condescend to mere gossip. Our mother and I readily gave our consent, though we were both aware that our father’s idea of gossip is in many respects quite different from our own.
Our mother, incidentally, has been lately adding to her possession in plate – a whole tablespoon and a whole dessert spoon, and six whole teaspoons – which makes our sideboard border on the magnificent.
I wish I could help you with your needlework – Mary must be grateful to have so much done – since I have two hands and a new thimble that lead a very easy life.
Mrs Holden called upon us yesterday with news of poor Mr Woodstock who has been very low since the death of his wife. One would have thought he might have regarded it as a happy release from the tyranny she exercised over him but it appears that he is lost without someone to tell him what to do and what to think. The wild beast released from its cage after many years is not more reluctant to venture forth than he is. It may be that when he has had a sufficient taste of freedom and is grown more accustomed to the state, he may yet regain his spirits. Meanwhile he has become more weak and uncertain than ever and his condition is not helped by the questioning of his household (necessary I now admit) about his wife’s death, all of which brings on nervous spasms that require the attendance of Dr King.
Mrs Holder says that Mr James Russell has been no support , being either away or, when he is in Lyme, unheeding of his uncle’s distress and absorbed in his own affairs. If it were not for Mr Rivers’ kindness and sympathy, she says, poor Mr Woodstock would be in a sorry state.
Our mother is now determined that we should call upon him and thus find out for herself how matters stand, so I should be able to furnish you with first hand news of the household at Holcombe Park. I am surprised that Mr Russell has not sought to ingratiate himself with his uncle to prepare him for the news of his engagement, but perhaps he, too, is a procrastinator, waiting for the right moment, which may never come.
I am not surprised, however, to learn that Mr Rivers is doing all that is proper to comfort his cousin. He seems to me to be an excellent sort of man, reliable and just the sort of person one would call upon, and I am sure Mr Woodstock cannot but be grateful to have him here at hand and not in the far Barbados. I do hope that Mr Rivers has not set his mind on Miss West for, not only do I think his hopes would be dashed by Miss West’s mama, but I would be sad to see a sensible man entrapped by mere beauty, something one sees only too often, as we have had cause to remark.
Our mother wants to know if Robert has ever made the hen-house which they planned together. I am glad to hear that Robert’s income is a good one – as glad as I can be at anybody’s being rich except you and me – and I am thoroughly rejoiced to hear of his and Mary’s present to you.
Yours affectionately,
E.C.
15th September
My Dear Charlotte,
Though you will scarcely have received my last letter, I take up my pen again to tell you of our visit to Holcombe Park. Mr Woodstock greeted us most warmly, being glad, I think, to have his old friends about him. Mr James Russell was not to be seen, being gone to Exeter it is said to conduct some business for his uncle but, mostly probably, to escape the dismal atmosphere at home.
You will be amused to learn that Mr Woodstock has taken on some of the qualities of his late wife and is now forever complaining of some indisposition or other – he who scarcely dared to have a headache is now enjoying a variety of illnesses which require the almost constant attention of Dr King. We were invited to take luncheon with him and although the refreshments provided were of the usual lavishness and excellence, all Mr Woodstock would take was a bowl of gruel. “For I find,” he said, “that , at this hour, anything else produces a colicky condition. Dr King thinks that I may benefit from taking the waters, so that when all this sorry business is settled I may go to Bath.”
So much for Mrs Woodstock’s preference for Cheltenham! But I am glad for Mr Woodstock, that
he has found an occupation for himself that will (quite easily) recompense him for his loss.
Mr Rivers was in attendance and was most kind and attentive to his cousin. Our mother asked him how long he would remain in England.
“Well, as to that,” he said, “I do not know. I am glad to be of use to my cousin and fortunately I have a good manager in Barbados who is perfectly able to look after the Estate. Of course, I miss my son but he is greatly attached to his grandparents and lives with them. But for the present my duty lies here.”
Mr Woodstock nodded approvingly at this and said, “Frederick is a capital fellow and I don’t know how I would manage without him!” I wondered how Mr James Russell felt about this dependence and if he was concerned that Mr Rivers was gaining too much influence over his relative. But if he cannot be bothered to take trouble with his uncle he will only have himself to blame if he finds his inheritance given to another. I can only suppose he feels himself so secure he need not bother with anything so tiresome as attending upon an old man. Which merely confirms what we have always thought: that Mr James Russell is a very foolish young man indeed. However, by no means do I accuse Mr Rivers of being devious in this matter. I find him a person of excellent character with a sympathetic nature and believe that he is truly sorry for his cousin and wishes to do all in his power to assist him.
When we left our mother was very scornful of Mr Woodstock. “To be forever coddling himself and having poor Dr King running back and forth whenever he fancies himself ill! I have no patience with him and I think Mr Rivers is a remarkably amiable young man to put up with him. I was asking him about Chapman – after all she was Mrs Woodstock’s personal maid and now her mistress is no more I was surprised to learn that she is still there. However, it seems that although Chapman is anxious to go and live with her sister in Seaton – and Mr Woodstock is to give her a handsome annuity – she has been required to remain until this investigation is finished, which is quite ridiculous and when I see Sir Edward I will certainly tell him so!”
I forgot to tell you in my last letter that you need not endeavour to match our mother’s morning calico; she does not mean to make it up any more.
Yesterday we had a letter from Nanny Hilliard, the object of which is that she would be very much obliged to us if we could get Hannah a place. I am sorry that we cannot assist her; if you can think of anywhere – or if Mary can – let me know, as I shall not answer the letter immediately.
Your affectionate sister E.C.
19th September
My Dear Charlotte,
Sir Edward called today and, our father being out at the farm, our mother seized the opportunity of speaking her mind on the subject of our neighbours with no restraining presence! “Far be it from me to speak ill of the dead, Sir Edward, but it seems to me that many people will lead easier lives now that Mrs Woodstock is no more. Not, of course, that she was not a worthy woman in many ways, a pillar of society, you might say, with very high standards and moral principles. But not an easy woman to live with, if you understand me. How poor Mr Woodstock survived, harried and bullied all his days I shall never know.”
“You don’t imagine that Mr Woodstock had anything to do with her death?” Sir Edward enquired.
“Good gracious no, whatever gave you that idea! No, poor man, he couldn’t say boo to a goose, let alone his wife. But she did make life most difficult for poor Mr Russell, her nephew. His father was killed – he was in the army, serving somewhere abroad, I can’t remember where – and his mother, although she was of a good family, had no fortune of her own so that they were really quite poor and Mr Russell was dependent on his aunt for the elegancies of life – well you know, Sir Edward how young men have no sense of money – though we have been most fortunate in our two sons who are most sensible about such things, beside the fact that Mr Cowper has always brought them up to live within their means. No, Mr Russell was what I might call an expensive young man and he knew he had to dance to her tune if she was going to supply him with horses, carriages and I know not what. Always down here whenever she lifted her little finger or pretended to be at death’s door. Well, she played that trick one time too many and now she really is dead.”
“Do you mean you think that Mr Russell may have in some way caused her death?” Sir Edward said.
“Goodness me, what an idea! Oh no, Mr Russell is a very nice, well-spoken young man, always most polite and attentive. They say that he might offer for Miss Craven – she is something of an heiress you know but now that his Aunt has died he may not be obliged to do so…”
Here Lucy came in to require our mother’s presence in the kitchen on some domestic matter and she was obliged to leave us alone.
“And what is your view of Mr Russell?” Sir Edward asked. “Do you share your mother’s opinion?”
“I think Mr Russell is a fashionable young man who looked to his aunt to keep him handsomely fitted out. I believe she was fond of him, after her fashion, and was quite happy to indulge him provided he showed her attention.”
“But she had no fortune of her own to leave him?”
“No, but, since they had no children of their own, I believe Mr Woodstock looked upon him as his heir and, being easily swayed, will no doubt continue to indulge Mr Russell as his wife did, and without the demands she made upon him.”
“So, other than the tiresome business of having to wait upon his aunt’s pleasure, Mr Russell had no reason to wish her dead?”
I must admit, My Dear Charlotte, that I was within a moment of telling him of Miss West, but that scruple I mentioned to you before held me back. I know you will not approve of it, though you will credit me, I hope, with not giving a downright lie, but remaining silent.
“I believe,” he continued, “that he and Mr Woodstock were the only people dining with Mrs Woodstock that evening. Mr Rivers was not there?”
“No, he dined with us that evening.”
“You know Mr Rivers well?”
“He has but lately come into the neighbourhood, having been in Barbados for many years, so he is a new acquaintance – though a very pleasant one.”
“Indeed? And what is your opinion of him?”
“It is, I believe, the general opinion. That he is a very amiable man, pleasant company and with great good sense.”
“You approve of good sense then, Miss Cowper?”
“Does not every rational person?”
Our mother just then coming back into the room, she resumed the conversation. “Were you talking of Mr Rivers? Now he is a charming man! Mrs Holder was telling me that at one of the Assemblies, although he would certainly have wished to be dancing he made no objection to making up a four at whist when Mrs Chamberlyne asked him. And his manner is always so agreeable, nothing is too much trouble for him. Why, when Mrs Brompton was laid up with a cold he went all the way to Exeter to procure some special wool she needed to complete a carpet she was making. And when he dined with us he was able to converse easily with Mr Mildmay, who is quite deaf and needs a good deal of trouble to make him hear – a great problem on such occasions, and I have often said to Mr Cowper that only the fact that he is one of our oldest friends persuades me to invite him! No, Mr Rivers is a splendid addition to our society and I for one will be very sorry to see him go back to Barbados.”
“I see you all have golden opinions of him, ma’am.”
“Indeed I do and I cannot imagine what Mr Woodstock would have done without him these last weeks. Especially now that he – Mr Woodstock, that is – has taken to invalidish ways. He was talking the other day of oppressions in his head. Well I told him that such an attack is quite usual at his age. Last year I had for some time the sensation of a peck loaf resting on my head, and they talked of cupping me, but Dr King gave me a dose or two of calomel and I’ve never heard of it since!”
I think it was with some relief that Sir Edward greeted our father who had just returned from the farm and they went off into the Library where I have no doubt they had an enjoyab
le conversation about the harvest and the prospects for the shooting season.
Our mother was delighted with Sir Edward, pronouncing him a man of sense whose opinions she heartily agreed with.
How is your blue gown? Mine is all in pieces. I think there must have been something wrong in the dye, for in places it divided with a touch. There was four shillings thrown away, to be added to my subjects of never-failing regret.
Today’s unpromising aspect makes it absolutely necessary for me to observe how peculiarly fortunate you have been with your weather. We will be obliged to start fires soon.
Yours affectionately,
E.C.
20th September
My Dear Charlotte,
You will like to know that we had a very pleasant party yesterday. Only six guests – the Chamberlynes, Maria Brompton, Mr Rivers, Mr Russell and Sir Edward. Mr Woodstock was invited but declared that he dare not face the chill winds of autumn, a remark which our mother was inclined to scorn until he added that Dr King had expressly forbidden him to do so.
The mutton was well cooked, since I had made several visits to the kitchen to be sure that Cook did not persist in serving it up in the under-done state she prefers, and the fowl was likewise well received. Remarking upon the excellence of the syllabub, Mrs Chamberlyne exclaimed that it was something Mrs Woodstock had particularly liked and that it was always prepared for every dinner at Holcombe Park on the chance that she might fancy it. At this I noticed that Sir Edward was regarding Mr Russell and Mr Rivers most intently and I wondered if he believed something fatal might have been introduced into the dish that might have caused Mrs Woodstock’s death. However, as far as I could judge, neither young man reacted in any way oddly so that Sir Edward’s conjecture – whatever it might have been – was abandoned.
The introduction of Mrs Woodstock’s name allowed other guests to comment upon the events of the past weeks though the presence of two of her relations naturally confined the comments to the favourable rather than the candid.