My Dear Charlotte

by Hazel Holt

  Mr Russell continues suspicious of Mr Rivers and it is amusing to watch them each trying to out-do the other in their attentions towards poor Mr Woodstock who sometimes looks quite overwhelmed by their efforts. Lucy says that Sarah and the other maids are united in their dislike of Mr Russell’s valet Corbett, a most disagreeable young man, who gives himself airs and demands the first cut of meat for dinner and other privileges because of his master’s position in the household. Fortunately Chapman, who has a sharp tongue, has several times put him in his place, implying that Mr Russell may not be the favoured nephew much longer. All of which, Lucy says, makes life in the kitchen at Holcombe a disagreeable place, which must reflect on Mr Woodstock’s comfort, for, as you know, such comfort depends to a degree upon the harmony prevailing among the domestics.

  I have been looking over “Self Control” again, and my opinion is confirmed of its being an excellently meant, elegantly written work, without anything of nature or probability in it. I declare I do not know whether Laura’s passage down the American river is not the most natural, possible, everyday thing she ever does.

  No morning service today, wherefore I am writing this between twelve and one o’clock. Mr Rivers comes this afternoon if there be not snow, which by the look of things may be coming soon.

  Your affectionate sister,

  E.C.

  11th November

  My Dear Charlotte,

  The snow, which did arrive, did not prevent Mr Rivers from calling upon us. He seemed in high spirits and was very full of information concerning Mr Woodstock’s health and well-being. It seems that Mr Russell has been absent again for a few days and Mr Rivers has obviously wished to profit from this absence to extend his influence over his cousin.

  “How fortunate,” our mother said, “that Mr Woodstock has you to tend him when Mr Russell is away so often. In the winter, too, when those not in the best of health – and poor Mr Woodstock is certainly among that number – are most likely to be unwell.”

  “Indeed, madam,” he said earnestly, “yesterday I was so anxious about him – his appetite was bad and he complained of a headache – that I sent for Dr King.” Our mother nodded approvingly. “Dr King said that it was not a serious malady and gave him a dose of calomel, which seemed to do him good, but said he should keep to his bed for the remainder of the day.”

  “Very wise. Some people say that Dr King is over cautious, but I believe that to err on the side of caution has saved many lives and Dr King agrees with me. Mr Woodstock is not strong – his nerves are easily agitated – and that sort of person can very easily succumb to any kind of illness in the neighbourhood. Indeed poor Mr Mildmay had a bad case of colic only last week and Maria Brompton a very unpleasant cold and sore throat. So, you see, one cannot be too careful in such matters and Mr Woodstock is very lucky that you are there to look after him. But tell me, what was so urgent that Mr Russell had to leave his uncle?”

  “He said it was a matter of business, but what sort of business I cannot say.”

  “Business for his uncle?”

  “His own business – certainly it required him to go to London for several days.”

  “Well, I suppose young men will find any excuse for going up to enjoy the pleasures of London. But you, Mr Rivers, do you not find Lyme very dull?”

  “Indeed no, ma’am. It is delightful to me to be in England once again and I am particularly happy to be in such a charming place as Lyme and in such pleasant company.”

  “Well, you must settle here. I am sure you will be happier in Lyme than in Barbados – though I am sure it is very agreeable – and we would all be most pleased if you were to remain here.”

  “Alas, I have my way to make in the world and must go back to Barbados quite soon to attend to business there.”

  “Oh I am sure your cousin will think you too valuable to let you go back ; he will surely find much to do to keep you here.”

  He smiled but made no reply, though I do believe that he would much prefer to stay in Lyme where he can continue to pursue Miss West.

  The snow having melted the following day we had a very pleasant time at Ashe, we sat down fourteen to dinner in the study, the dining room being not habitable from the storms having blown down their chimney. Mrs Bramston talked a good deal of nonsense, which Mr Bramston and Mr Clerk seemed almost equally to enjoy. There was whist and a casino table, and six outsiders. Rice and Lucy flirted, Mat Robinson fell asleep, James and Mrs Augusta alternately read Dr Finnis’ pamphlet on the cow-pox, and I bestowed my company by turns on all.

  I was astonished to hear that when you were at the theatre you saw Mr Russell in another of the boxes and that Sir Edward seemed particularly interested in the company he was with. Since Mr Russell was in the audience, I was amused that the play was “The Hypocrite,” from Moliere’s “Tartuffe.” I am sorry for your disappointment in seeing Mrs Edwin as the heroine and not Mrs Siddons, though you say her performance was good, as well as those of Dowton and Mathews. Nevertheless, I am pleased that our uncle is to give you the opportunity to attend one of Mrs Siddons’ public readings, which she is now chiefly engaged upon since her retirement from the theatre.

  Mr Mildmay, whom I encountered one afternoon at Mrs Chamberlyne’s, is becoming so deaf that they say he could not hear a cannon were it fired close to him; having no cannon at hand I was not able to make the experiment, but he is indeed extremely hard of hearing and I was obliged to speak very loud to get any response from him. You were enquired after very prettily, Mrs Peters surpassed the rest in her attentive recollection of you, inquired more into the length of your absence, and desired to be “remembered to you when I wrote next”. Which duty I hereby fulfill.

  Your affectionate sister,

  E.C.

  15th November

  My Dear Charlotte,

  Sir Edward returned from London earlier than we expected. He waited upon us this morning with the many packages you sent for our mother. She is delighted with the purchases you made on her behalf and quite approves of the blue bombazine which you added on your own account and says that it will make up admirably into a morning gown. Our mother was anxious for news of you, and questioned Sir Edward closely concerning the state of our uncle’s health. He expressed his pleasure in meeting you and refused (most politely) to express an opinion on the health or otherwise of our uncle, merely stating that he seemed to be in excellent spirits at the theatre party and appeared to have a good appetite at the dinner beforehand.

  I was able to have a little private conversation with him while our mother went to search for some ivory fish for a set of Speculation that she had promised the boys.

  “Charlotte tells me that Mr Russell was at the theatre the evening you were there,” I said, “and that you were most interested in the company he was with.”

  “I should have known that your sister would share your gifts of observation – I was, indeed, much struck by her thoughts on a variety of subjects and her good sense in pronouncing upon them. Yes, it would seem that Mr Russell’s acquaintances have a doubtful reputation.”

  “Indeed?”

  “Which leads me to believe (and other inquiries I was able to make confirm this) that he may well have substantial gambling debts – and may, even now, be attempting to repair his fortunes by further excesses at the tables.”

  “Foolish indeed!”

  “Young men are often foolish, but I imagine Mr Russell allowed his debts to accumulate while his aunt was alive, thinking that she would relieve him.”

  “I do not believe she would have given him money if she had known they were gambling debts. As I think I informed you before, she had a horror of gaming since it ruined her grandfather and left the family in a much impoverished state. No, I am sure that was something he had to keep from her at all costs since she would have never given him another penny if she had found out.”

  “I see. But Mr Woodstock has no such objections?”

  “I do not think so – unless he feels b
ound to respect his wife’s opinions. But I imagine Mr Russell would not feel obliged to explain for what particular purpose he required the money.”

  “And you think Mr Woodstock will continue the payments that his wife made to her nephew?”

  “I imagine so. Unless he becomes so reliant upon Mr Rivers that he no longer feels any obligation to support Mr Russell.”

  “That may very well be true. Thank you Miss Cowper for your thoughts, they are most valuable.” Our mother coming back into the room we had no further conversation on this matter.

  We are very much disposed to like our new maid, Susan; she knows nothing of the dairy, to be sure, which in our family is rather against her, but she is to be taught it all by Lucy. In short, we have, as you know, felt the inconvenience of being without a second maid so long, that we are determined to like her. As yet, she seems able to help Cook very well and says she can work well at her needle.

  I am delighted to hear that you have been to a ball, and have danced at it, have supped with the Mortons, and that you should meditate the purchase of a new muslin gown. I am determined to buy a handsome one whenever I can, and am so tired and ashamed of half my present stock that I even blush at the sight of the wardrobe which contains them. But I will not be much longer libeled by the possession of my coarse spot; I shall turn it into a petticoat very soon.

  I am very glad you recommended “Gisborne,” for, having begun, I am pleased with it, and had quite determined not to read it.

  Yours affectionately,

  E.C.

  17th November

  My Dear Charlotte,

  The most shocking thing has occurred. While walking in his uncle’s covers yesterday Mr Russell was shot at and wounded. Mercifully the ball merely grazed his arm but I hear he bled profusely and could very well have been killed. The general opinion is that the miscreant is one of the tinkers, on Mr Woodstock’s land, illegally shooting his game. Whoever it may have been, the whole town, as you may imagine, is in an uproar. Mr and Mrs Holder visited us this morning and could speak of nothing else.

  “We could all be murdered in our beds!” Mrs Holder exclaimed. “That such a thing should happen at Lyme! Mr Holder went himself to see Sir Edward to inquire what was being done and Sir Edward merely said that the constable was looking into it, which is no answer at all when we are so anxious. We made a point of visiting Mr Woodstock this morning – poor man, he was in a great state and even Mr Rivers had much trouble in calming him. “

  Our mother asked, “Did you see Mr Russell himself?”

  “No, he was keeping to his room.”

  “But he had seen Dr King of course?”

  “No, he would not. He said it was a mere scratch and that his valet had attended to it.”

  “How foolish! Such a wound, if it be neglected, can lead to fever. Mr Woodstock must make him see Dr King.”

  “He would not, saying that it was a lot of fuss about nothing and Corbett was perfectly capable of dressing the wound. Well, you know how these young men are, not willing to show any kind of weakness.”

  “How did it happen?”

  Mr Holder then took up the story. “The keeper is ill and, although Mr Woodstock does not shoot, he likes to know that everything is as it should be if either Mr Russell or Mr Rivers might wish to do so. Mr Russell offered to walk through the covers and see that all was well. He was quite a way inside the wood when he said he heard a rustling sound behind him, he half turned and then there was a shot and he found he was wounded.”

  “How dreadful!”

  “He was, of course, not immediately in a condition to pursue his attacker and, indeed, as I hear, he was only just able to make his way back into the house.”

  “And his arm was badly wounded?” our mother inquired.

  “There was certainly a great deal of blood which had soaked through the sleeve of his coat,” Mr Holder said. His wife gave a faint scream at this unpleasant information but he continued, “He said it had grazed his left arm. A few inches to the right and it might well have pierced his heart.”

  “And Sir Edward has not done anything to find the attacker?” our mother asked.

  “He has instructed the constable to make inquiries,” Mr Holder said, “and he, himself, is to speak to Mr Russell today when it is hoped he will be in a fit state to see him.”

  So that is how matters stand and we all wait with eagerness and some anxiety to see what may happen next. As you may imagine, although we all enjoy any happenings out of the general way, such a violent event is beyond anything we may have thought of or, indeed, wished for. However, since the victim is Mr Russell, whom I do not care for, and since his injury was not fatal, I think I may indulge myself with being at least intrigued by this occurrence.

  Yours affectionately,

  E.C.

  20th November

  My Dear Charlotte,

  When I was on my way home this morning I was approached in Church Street by Miss West, who was in a state of considerable agitation. “Miss Cowper, please tell me, how is Mr Russell? We have heard the most dreadful things! When my mother told me she had heard he had been shot I fainted quite away, and even now, as you may see, the terrible news has almost overcome me. Everyone seems to have a different story and I have no way of finding out the truth since, as you can imagine, it is not possible for me to make direct inquiries and I am quite frantic to discover how he is?” She grasped my arm. “He is not dead? Tell me he is not dead!”

  “Pray do not agitate yourself, Miss West. Mr Russell is well, the injury was not dangerous – ‘a mere scratch’ he called it.”

  She released my arm to clasp her hands together.”Oh how brave he is! But he is wounded?”

  “The ball grazed his arm I believe.”

  “But he could have been killed! Oh that I might go to him!”

  “He is very well looked after I assure you.”

  “Oh Miss Cowper, if only I could be as cold and rational as you, but I have a very sensitive nature and I feel things more than most people – and such a thing to have happened!” Since I made no reply – and indeed what reply could I make? – she continued in a more natural tone, “But do they know who has done this thing? Who could have wished to harm him?”

  “It is thought that tinkers, shooting in the woods, shot him by mistake.”

  “Oh.” She seemed downcast at such a prosaic answer but said, “But it may yet be proved otherwise. No-one has been taken up yet?”

  “The constable is looking into the matter and Sir Edward Hampton, who, as you know is the magistrate, is speaking to Mr Russell about it. But it must surely be the tinkers. I do not know of anyone who might wish Mr Russell harm.”

  She was silent for a moment and then said “Oh Miss Cowper if only I have not been the cause of this dreadful thing!”

  “You?”

  “I had no idea that he felt so strongly!”

  “Who?”

  She opened her eyes very wide in that tiresome way she has and said “Mr Rivers of course.”

  “Mr Rivers? I believe he and Mr Russell are not on very friendly terms, being in some way rivals for Mr Woodstock’s attention, but I know of no reason why he should wish to harm him.”

  “It is not only Mr Woodstock’s attention they are rivals for” she declared dramatically.

  “Indeed?”

  “Mr Rivers has made me a declaration.”

  “A declaration?”

  “He wishes to marry me,” she said impatiently. “Of course, he had no idea of my attachment to Mr Russell – he is the soul of honour and would never have approached me if he had known I was promised to another.”

  “What did you tell him?” I asked, curious to know with what splendid equivocation she had answered him.

  “I told him it was impossible since I was not free.”

  “And he accepted that?”

  “Of course he tried to press me for more details, but I said I was bound to secrecy and could give him no answer.”

&nb
sp; “So he did not know that it was Mr Russell you are engaged to?”

  She lowered her head. “He guessed,” she murmured, “though it is not exactly an engagement…”

  I wondered what Mrs West would have made of this admission.

  “I see. So you think that Mr Rivers, maddened by jealousy, attempted to murder Mr Russell?”

  She gave a little scream of protest “Oh Miss Cowper, I certainly did not say such a thing. Not murder – he may have wished to frighten Mr Russell so he that would go away, back to London. I could never forgive myself if I have been the cause of this terrible thing.” She clutched my arm again. “Pray forget everything I have said – I could not bear anyone to know.… But he is well, you say, Mr Russell?”

  “He is.”

  “Thank heavens. I must go – I have taken too much of your time, but you will understand that I had to know how he is.”

  So you see I was right about Mr Rivers’ succumbing to Miss West’s charms. Whether or not this passion so worked upon him that he felt compelled to rid the world of his hated rival (on two accounts) I do not know. I suppose it is possible, mankind being as it is, though I would not have thought Mr Rivers was one to discard prudence (and what could be more imprudent than shooting one’s rival) for the sake of a pretty face. He always struck me as a sensible man, but who can tell to what lengths passion might drive one – or, at least, so the writers of fiction assure us.

  What I would dearly like to know is what Mrs West makes of all this. I regret that, being so astonished at her news, I did not think to question her daughter on the matter. If Mrs West has somehow got news of Mr Russell’s debts, she may well believe that Mr Rivers is a better match, however much Miss West may protest her devotion to Mr Russell. It may be, indeed, that the performance I witnessed in Church Street was set on by Mrs West to try to gather information which might assist her in making up her mind which suitor would be best pursued.