An Indelicate Situation (The Weymouth Trilogy)

by Lizzie Church

  Mr Staveley looked gratified.

  ‘Yes, I daresay we are. We have p...plenty of time to kill, after all, with p...precious little to do for m...most of the day. A great many of us carve things. I p...particularly like to carve little toys and m...miniatures. They come in devilish useful whilst in p...port – b...building b...bridges with the locals, you know – and I like to p...please the children. The ones I am engaged on at the moment are for my little cousins here. I think they will like them, once they are done.’

  ‘I’m sure they will. They are very lucky children indeed to have you for their cousin. Such little darlings, all of them. How I doat on them all.’

  Sad to say, Mr Staveley found himself quite unable to second his visitor’s sentiment regarding his cousin’s children. Despite the recency of his acquaintance with them he had already made up his mind as to the absolute necessity of remaining apart from the little darlings as much as he possibly could for the sake not only of his sanity but also the sanctity of his clothing. Nevertheless, he was flattered that his family should evoke the approbation of a young lady as lovely and intelligent as Miss Brewer obviously was, so he exerted himself to ask her about her family instead, and in particular the circumstances which had led to her attending his cousin’s dinner party in the company of her papa.

  ‘We have suffered an unfortunate few years, I’m afraid, Mr Staveley. Firstly my oldest brother died of the measles, then my mama died from a nasty inflammation occasioned by a fall downstairs at our country house over at Preston a few miles up the coast. We had bought the place in a terrible state from Mrs Berkeley – well, she wasn’t Mrs Berkeley then, of course, for her previous husband was still alive and sold it to papa to pay off an enormous gambling debt. Mama nearly had a heart attack when she saw the mess it was in – no modern comforts at all, and oh! so dingy. She was having the renovations done and an extension put on when she tumbled down the stairs from top to bottom from a piece of carpet that had come adrift. So I stayed at home to keep house for my papa. It suits me well enough. My sister recently married a cousin of ours and moved away to Bath. I visit her quite often. Bath suits me much better than Weymouth – it is so much more the thing – but I cannot leave papa for too long just at present. I am hoping that he will retire from the bank shortly – papa owns one of the banks here in Weymouth, you know - and we may then go permanently to Bath ourselves.’

  ‘B...but that would be Weymouth’s loss,’ protested Mr Staveley, gallantly. ‘B...Bath is replete with attractive young ladies, so I’ve heard. You cannot think of rob...robbing one town to b...benefit another which has far less need for such a charming young lady than Weymouth obviously does.’

  Miss Brewer was kind enough to bestow a somewhat arch smile upon her new admirer.

  ‘Well, that’s very pretty of you to say so, to be sure, Mr Staveley. I daresay my father will remain in business a few months more, at the least. By then you will have gone away yourself anyway. As soon as you find a ship for yourself I expect you will be tripping off to sea again. You naval officers always do.’

  Mr Staveley had to acknowledge the truth in this.

  ‘Well, p...perhaps we should make a pact, then, Miss B...Brewer. P...perhaps I should commit to remaining in Weymouth for as long as you m...make it worth m...my while to do so?’

  Miss Brewer inclined her head a little.

  ‘Perhaps we should. But you will not get me to agree to it just yet. You must demonstrate your sincerity by getting to know me a little better first.’

  Mr Staveley could hardly believe his luck. He determined on pressing home his advantage while he had the chance.

  ‘There is nothing I should welcome more, M...Miss Brewer. P...perhaps you will allow me to escort you to the b...ball this Friday? I think I heard you saying that you would p...particularly like to go.’

  Much to his surprise and delight the young lady graciously agreed that this might be possible. Having drained her glass she rose from the sofa, suggested that a time of eight fifteen might be in order, confirmed the address in Gloster Row where she might be discovered at that time, and then with just the hint of a provocative smile, she bobbed him a curtsy and disappeared from the room almost before he had managed to rise from his seat in order to see her out.

  Chapter 7

  If Mr Staveley was experiencing some success in his private interview with Miss Brewer, Mrs William and Maggie were experiencing somewhat more limited success in their dealings with little Will. For although they had quickly succeeded in discovering an eminently suitable pair of shoes for him at the shoemaker’s, which had previously been made for, but not claimed by, another little boy of much the same age as Will, they were only finding it possible to get the little angel to try the wretched things on through a combination of their joint powers of persuasion and not a little bribery on the part of his mama.

  The bribery, if not the persuasion, finally winning the day, and Mrs Wright triumphant in her negotiations over the exorbitant price first demanded for the prize, they both heaved a great sigh of relief as they succeeded in bundling Will out of the shoemaker’s door, the shiny new shoes under his arm. But no sooner had they emerged into the busy street than Master Will, perhaps feeling that one show of compliance was more than sufficient for one afternoon, decided that his old shoes were now really not the thing at all and steadfastly refused to return home until the old ones should be discarded and the new ones fitted to his feet.

  ‘Oh, hold the child steady whilst I help him to change his shoes, Miss Owens,’ requested his mama, thrusting a parcel of her own - as well as her son - into Maggie’s capable hands. ‘He will only make a scene, else, and I really cannot abide the thought of trying to quieten him when there are so many common people here to ogle and complain.’

  Maggie did as she was bid and somehow, between them, she and Mrs William managed to replace the old shoes with the new ones without attracting more than a modicum of attention, and in relatively very little time at all. Flushed with the success of this little venture they then turned up Coneygar Lane to head back towards the Esplanade and Ryall’s toyshop, in the general direction of home.

  ‘And which toy should you like as your reward for being a good boy and trying on your shoes, my love?’ asked Mrs William tenderly, as they gradually drew nearer to the shop. ‘How about a whirligig, or another spinning top?’

  Will regarded his mother with some contempt.

  ‘A whirligig? Whatever would I want a whirligig for, mama? And I don’t want another top, neither, so you can get me something better than that.’

  ‘Then let us have a look inside and see what the gentleman has to offer,’ she suggested, mildly, leading her party regally into the shop. ‘Young man – I say – what would you recommend for my son here? He is six years old and extremely bright.’

  But before the assistant had even had a chance to complete his respectful bow Will had spotted just the toy he wanted.

  ‘I’ll have that, mama,’ he declared, roundly. ‘I’ll have that boat. I have always wanted a boat and now I shall have one.’

  Now, the boat that had captured his attention was more an ornament than a sturdy toy. It was certainly not built to withstand all the demands that a six year old might be expected to place upon it. Besides, it appeared to be a rather more expensive gift than the one his mama had ideally had in mind.

  ‘A toy boat might be just the thing for a clever young gentleman like your son, ma’am,’ suggested the assistant, a touch nervously, ‘although perhaps you will allow me to recommend something a little sturdier – this one is not designed as a toy. I could not vouch for its survival if used as a toy. Perhaps something more along these lines may prove a little more resistant to everyday wear and tear?’

  ‘Oh yes, I think you might be right,’ agreed Mrs William swiftly. ‘The boat just there – the little one next to the ‘Victory’ – I would have thought that a boat like that would suit any little boy’s requirements.’

  Will, however
, perhaps sensing an element of resistance in both the shop assistant and his mama, had determined on setting his sights upon greater things than the somewhat rough and ready object which apparently passed for a boat and which was just that moment in the slightly nervous assistant’s accommodating hands.

  ‘No,’ he shouted, sturdily. ‘No, I don’t want that little boat. I don’t want it. I don’t like it at all. I like this boat here – this big one. This is the boat you must buy me.’

  Maggie was sorely tempted to drag him from the shop without further ado and make him leave with nothing but she could see that his mama was much more forbearing than she herself would have been.

  ‘But I think this one would perform a lot better on the water, my love,’ she was telling him. ‘The boat you like is very grand, to be sure, but I do not think it particularly designed to be sailed.’

  Will was looking mulish. It was a sign that his mama might have been well advised to heed.

  ‘I don’t care. I want that one. I don’t want the other one at all.’

  Mrs William turned resignedly to the assistant. He was now looking distinctly nervous.

  ‘Oh dear,’ she said. ‘I suppose I shall have to buy him what he wants. How much are you asking for the boat, young man? – though perhaps I should warn you straight away that I shall not pay above five shillings for it. Five shillings, to be sure, is more than enough for a toy like that.’

  The assistant gave every sign of having a heart attack when Mrs William named her price.

  ‘Oh no, madam,’ he said at once. ‘I do beg your pardon but there is no way at all in which I could possibly accept five shillings for it. As you know, it is a fully scaled model. It is not designed as a toy at all. I would normally charge a guinea for it, but as your son likes it so much I am prepared to accept a pound.’

  It was now Mrs William’s turn to evince all the signs of a heart attack.

  ‘A pound?’ she repeated, apparently becoming temporarily deaf into the bargain. ‘A pound you say? Oh no, my good man – I have no intentions of paying you a pound. Five shillings is my offer. You may take it or leave it as you wish. Five shillings, and no more, is what I am prepared to pay and that’s my final offer.’

  The very nervous assistant took a deep breath and eyed Mrs William a little warily. He appeared most loath to allow the boat out of his possession for a fee that would quite obviously result in a whopping loss for him, but he could also see that both Master William and his mama were equally determined to prize it from him and that for the sake of his nervous system he should capitulate now, before it got too late.

  ‘You’ll ruin me, ma’am, and that’s the truth,’ he admitted, stroking his chin ruefully. ‘But I can see that the little lad has set his heart on the boat and I’m not a hard hearted man. Hand me your five shillings and he can take it away with him right now.’

  Will was getting restive. Until now Maggie had held him firmly by the hand, but Mrs William just then passing her own parcel to her to hold once more as she found and parted with her crown, Will seized his opportunity, tore himself from her, pushed his way past the assistant’s thin torso and headed straight for the desired boat in its decorative position at the rear of the extremely cluttered counter.

  ‘William, come here. Come here this instant, you naughty boy.’

  But Will had other ideas. Knocking the other, less desirable, toys from their places in order to reach the prized schooner he grasped it greedily and pulled it from the shelf. A tin soldier clattered noisily to the floor, his comrades-at-arms knocked all ways on the counter like so many pins, obviously quite incapable of withstanding the guerrilla attack so unexpectedly made upon them. A glass stand shattered as it followed its master to the ground. A box full of marbles, foolishly placed in what the assistant had mistakenly thought a place of safety, was next to leave its sanctuary nearby. By this time Will appeared to be quite enjoying the rumpus his stampede was creating and he now began systematically to clear the remainder of the counter of anything he could reach.

  ‘William, William, stop that this instant. Miss Owens, put that parcel down and go to stop him. He will destroy the whole shop unless you can get him to the door.’

  Maggie tried manfully to catch him but William was determined and as slippery as an eel and it actually took the combined efforts of herself, the extremely nervous assistant and Mrs William to surround him and trap him in a corner before his rampage was finally over. Sadly, in so doing, William dropped his prize on the floor and Mrs William, pushed off balance by the cramped situation in which she found herself, was quite unable to prevent herself from stepping immediately upon it. Yes, Mrs William stepped upon it and straight away – to the horror of everyone then assembled in the little shop – she had the anguish of hearing an almighty crack, and of seeing its delicate mast and rigging breaking away entirely under the considerable weight of her regrettably mighty boot.

  A sudden hush descended upon the toyshop - a sudden hush which was immediately afterwards destroyed by a loud wail emitted from little Will and an almost equally loud wail emitted from Mrs William as that young gentleman kicked her viciously in the shin.

  ‘You horrible woman,’ shrieked Will, hitting out at her with all his might. ‘You horrible woman. I hate you - you did that on purpose. I saw you stepping on it. You have trampled it underfoot and have broken the mast right off.’

  At great risk to his personal safety, the excessively nervous assistant bent down to retrieve the now sorry-looking article from beneath his customer’s feet. He looked at her steadily as he did so and handed it up to her.

  ‘I hope you will be able to mend it again, ma’am,’ he said, and marched them quickly and determinedly over to the door.

  Chapter 8

  Whereas Mrs Staveley, who had contributed well over half of the money required to purchase the house in Grosvenor Place, could only be afforded one room to herself on the second floor of the building, and her son, whilst he remained her guest, grudgingly allowed the smallest guest bedroom next door at a rental which would not have disgraced the very best room that Scrivens’ Boarding House had to offer, Mr Wright and his family occupied the whole of the remainder of the house with the exception of a tiny, cupboard-like room at the rear of the first floor, overlooking the yard, which had been allocated to Maggie as her own personal chamber. The children were housed across the corridor from Mrs Staveley on the second floor – the twins in two small rooms of their own and the younger children in the nursery next door - ostensibly to enable the remainder of the first floor to be taken over by the schoolroom and the larger guest bedroom but more likely to enable their papa and mama to achieve a good night’s sleep in their comfortable suite at an acceptable distance from their noisy brood. Officially, of course, Mrs Staveley also had free rein over the public rooms on the ground floor but since her removal to Weymouth she had very soon determined on the pleasantness of her apartment on the top floor, with its splendid view over the waters of the bay, when compared to the rowdy downstairs accommodation with its view over the road. So she had already got much into the habit of remaining upstairs unless she had particular reasons for going out.

  The situation of Maggie’s chamber, directly to the rear of Mr Wright’s personal dressing room, and sharing a wall with it, provided her with many a delightful yet agonising moment of imagination as she could hear the gentleman clattering about – opening and closing drawers and doors – as he washed and robed himself in the mornings and disrobed himself at night. She was constantly mindful of him sleeping not three yards from herself – and not only because of the gentle snores emanating from his charming wife reclining next to him in their giant double bed. The thought of him so close to her quite robbed her of sleep for hours.

  Despite her normal reluctance to vacate her room, it appeared that Mrs Staveley had decided that it would be only polite to accompany her niece on a return visit to Miss Brewer a little way along the Esplanade, for on the Friday after the dinner, at about a half
after two, she was to be seen in her best visiting clothes venturing slowly and rather stiffly down the staircase to the ground floor of the house. She sat herself down patiently in the drawing room whilst the lady of the house settled her bonnet at just the required angle in front of the alcove mirror in the hall. Mrs Wright was actually feeling a little out of curl at Mrs Staveley’s inconsiderate decision to join her on the visit. After all, it had entailed her in getting a servant to organise a chair for the old lady, who would have been quite unable to walk the few hundred yards to Gloster Row on her own, and the chair, of course, would cost at least a sixpence, which she felt that she could very ill afford to waste. Maggie had just released little Augusta into the capable and most welcome hands of a music master. According to her loving mama she was destined to blossom into a masterful harpist as she grew up, an instrument on which Maggie sadly had no expertise whatsoever. A master had therefore most reluctantly been sourced from amongst the best that Weymouth society had to offer, albeit at a gratifyingly reduced fee in recognition of the testimonials that Mrs William had so kindly hinted that she might be prepared to provide amongst her extremely wide and genteel acquaintance throughout the rest of the town in return. Maggie was just returning to resume her own work in the schoolroom when she passed Mrs Wright in the hall.

  ‘Oh, Miss Owens.’

  Mrs Wright had just been reassuring Mrs Staveley about something or other when she spotted Maggie behind her, in the mirror.

  ‘Miss Owens, I believe I left my green reticule in Aunt Staveley’s room this morning when I went in to suggest that she accompany me on my visit today. Would you be so kind as to fetch it for me? I need to await the appearance of the chair. I think you will find it on the small stool by the door.’

  Maggie was a little taken aback. She was not often accosted by Mrs Wright and she was not normally expected to run errands for the family. However, knowing that it was the housemaid’s afternoon off that day and thinking that the other servants may be busy on other things she happily agreed to do so and ran up the two flights to Mrs Staveley’s room in order to effect the commission. She opened the door a little nervously. She had never had cause to visit Mrs Staveley’s room before and it felt a bit like forbidden territory. However, she knew that the lady herself was already downstairs and had presumably granted permission for the reticule to be sought, so she slipped into the room and looked about for the stool that Mrs Wright had described to her. The stool was there all right, just as the lady had intimated, but there was no sign of a reticule, green or otherwise. Maggie looked quickly about the rest of the room. Everything was neat and tidy. There was nothing out of place. There was certainly no stray reticule. A little puzzled, Maggie left the room and made her way back down to the hall.