An Indelicate Situation (The Weymouth Trilogy)

by Lizzie Church

  She was still wondering this when yet another set of footsteps could be detected, coming along the self same pathway as before. This time the steps were heavy and ponderous. They belonged to Mr Staveley, who was luckily on his own. He did not immediately see Maggie as she struggled before him, but when he did so he stopped short and looked at her, puzzled, for a while.

  ‘Whatever are you doing, M...Miss Owens?’ he asked eventually, stepping forward once again.

  Maggie sighed and looked him in the eye.

  ‘I was examining this shrub here and have become entangled in the brambles,’ she replied. ‘I don’t suppose you could help me out, could you?’

  Mr Staveley agreed that he probably could and proceeded to demonstrate the fact by deftly releasing the offending tendril from her garment and stabbing himself in the neck with it.

  ‘I don’t suppose that you saw M...Miss B...Brewer coming along this way, did you, Miss Owens?’ he asked her as they finally managed to break themselves free of the pernicious thorns. They set off back along the pathway together, as being the best thing to do just then.

  Maggie was a little uncertain as to whether to admit to having seen Miss Brewer, as Miss Brewer had certainly not seen her. Luckily, just as she was about to issue a denial they happened to pass by the entrance to another small pathway, leading off to quite another part of the shrubbery.

  ‘I think I happened to see her walking along there, Mr Staveley,’ she said quickly, gesturing vaguely towards it.

  ‘And was she...was she entirely on her own?’

  Maggie caught the anxiety in his question and for a fleeting moment she felt quite sorry for him.

  ‘I’m not quite sure, Mr Staveley, though I have a feeling that she may not have been entirely on her own. I hardly saw her, really. These pathways are extremely winding. A person soon gets quite out of sight along them.’

  Mr Staveley hesitated for a second. Maggie thought that she should take pity on him.

  ‘I was wondering whether you might be good enough to find me some refreshment?’ she suggested. ‘It is exceedingly hot, is it not? - and I find that I am developing a slight headache. I would really welcome a glass of lemonade.’

  Mr Staveley roused himself.

  ‘Of course I shall, M...Miss Owens,’ he assured her. He seemed only too happy to be wanted. ‘P...please – take my arm and I will find you some in a moment.’

  The lemonade found, Mr Staveley gallantly provided Maggie with a seat at one of the little tables which were scattered about the terrace, and opened up its sunshade for her. Maggie sipped her drink and looked about her. Some guests were practising their new-found skills on the lawn. Others were gossiping in idle groups in the shade of the tropical trees. She wondered where Mr and Mrs Wright had disappeared to and whether Mr Wright might seek her out again.

  Suddenly recalling that she was not on her own, however, she remembered her manners and decided to make an effort to engage her new companion in some conversation for a while.

  ‘You were hoping to catch Miss Brewer on her own, Mr Staveley?’ she asked him, indicating that he was welcome to take a seat if he wished to do so. He sat down next to her at the table.

  ‘Is it so ob...obvious?’

  Maggie smiled and accepted some of the little pastries that the servants were bringing round.

  ‘Well, she is a very pretty lady and is good enough to allow you to escort her whilst you are in town. It would be only natural for you to – well – yes, wish to catch her on her own.’

  Freddy looked at her a little glumly.

  ‘I had hoped that she m...might want m...me to, Miss Owens,’ he admitted, looking sheepish. ‘She can be quite encouraging at times. B...but then, at other times, it is almost as if I do not exist. She is so lovely. I wish she would not tease me as she does.’

  ‘Yes, it does not seem quite kind,’ agreed Maggie. ‘Perhaps she does not know that she does it.’

  Mr Staveley nodded his head, though he did not look entirely convinced.

  ‘Well, I can only do m...my b...best to win her,’ he muttered, as if to himself. ‘Per...perhaps if she sees that I am genuine she m...may look on me m...more kindly after a while.’

  ‘Perhaps she will, Mr Staveley. You cannot be blamed for trying, that’s for sure.’

  It was as they were both musing after this little exchange that Maggie became aware of the sound of crunching wheels once again. She peered down the terrace. The smart curricle that she had seen arriving so flamboyantly not so very long ago was already being reinstated on the driveway. She watched idly for a moment as the tiger halted the horses and ran to hold their heads. A second later she saw the white muslin gown and dainty form of Miss Brewer emerging from the saloon in the company of the young man whom Maggie immediately recognised as the fortunate recipient of Miss Brewer’s earlier attentions. The young man handed her elegantly up into the carriage, took his own place in the driver’s seat, whipped the horses on and instantly sped off noisily down the drive. Mr Staveley, too, had seen the somewhat abrupt departure. Maggie could see that he was looking rather low.

  ‘It’s that scaly Rowley-Jones again,’ he muttered, irritably. ‘Of all the b...bad luck. I am b...beginning to wish that I’d never set eyes upon the b...bothersome, vexing prigstar.’

  Maggie smiled at him in a way that she hoped would look reassuring. She did not feel that there was much more to be said about it all, just then.

  Mrs William, determining that she was most certainly the Berkeleys’ chief guest, managed to delay the appearance of her own conveyance until everyone else had taken their leave but, unable to delay it any longer by dint of her husband’s increasingly urgent hints, she finally accepted the inevitable and agreed that unfortunately, they really ought to go. However, finding that Miss Brewer had already departed, due, apparently, to a most persistent sick headache, she immediately decided that Mr Brewer’s poor horses should not be expected to undertake any further journeys up the hill. After all, Maggie and Mr Staveley being the only two guests remaining without a conveyance of their own, it would be no inconvenience to either of them to make the short trek back into town on foot.

  If this had been meant as a slight by Mrs William it was destined to pass the two intended victims quite by. It was a lovely evening, after all, and Maggie, mindful of Mr Staveley’s singular dislike of riding in a carriage, was more than happy to accompany him in a gentle ramble down the hill, despite wishing that it was Mr Wright, and not him, at her side. Indeed, it was disappointing that Mr Wright had not himself suggested that Mr Staveley replace him in the carriage. Perhaps Mrs William had required her husband to escort her. So, after declining the kind offer of a carriage from their hosts and accepting their fond farewells - fonder, certainly, than the farewells just then meted out to Mrs William, and probably expressed with slightly more sincerity - and some brief instructions as to the best way down to the quay, Maggie and Mr Staveley set out together to enjoy an evening stroll.

  ‘I hope you do not m...mind, having to beat the hoof like this, M...Miss Owens,’ remarked Freddy. ‘After all, it is a little inconsiderate of my cousin to deny you the p...pleasure of a drive.’

  ‘I do not mind at all. I had much rather walk. I am perfectly happy to spare the poor horses yet another hard pull up that hill.’

  They left the gravel driveway behind them and set off across the grass.

  ‘What a beautiful property Mr and Mrs Berkeley own, Mr Staveley,’ she continued, conversationally. ‘I cannot conceive of anywhere more perfect than Belvoir – and so convenient for the town as well. I didn’t see too much of the house, of course, although what I did see was as elegant as could be. But the gardens – those tropical plants – I have never seen anything like them in my life before. What a joy it would be to live in a property such as that. I must admit, I am exceedingly jealous of everything about it.’

  ‘So you liked the tropical p...plants did you, M...Miss Owens? I like them, too, and am trying to learn a little
about them on my travels. I am used to seeing them in their p...proper situations, of course, b...but there you get the sm...smells and sounds as well – cicadas singing non-stop from all the b...bushes – they m...make a rhythmic whirring sort of a noise, quite soporific, in fact – and the songs and calls of strange birds and animals. You can see some devilish p...pretty creatures in the tropics. I think you would like them.’

  Maggie thought for a moment. It would all seem very strange.

  By this time they had reached a fork in the pathway, with one route quite obviously leading directly down to the quay and the other taking a higher orientation across the top of the hill.

  ‘Shall we walk over the top of the cliff, M...Miss Owens? Only it is so b...beautiful up here in the sunshine it seems a shame to return straight into town.’

  Maggie had no objections to make. After all, there was nothing in particular for her to return home to and she was quite enjoying their little ramble now that the sun had lost its ferocity. So they branched off the route suggested by Mr Berkeley and found themselves taking a narrow trackway which led – so they discovered – to the crest of the hillside known as ‘The Nose’. The hillside itself was not memorable. It was covered, in the main, in hummocky grasses and low growing shrubs, their symmetry distorted by the wind. But once they had reached the other side they were rewarded by a most magnificent view northwards across Weymouth bay and on to the shining white cliffs which led to Lulworth cove. Just below them was the River Wey, lined on both sides by tall-masted ships, the quayside, even at this time, still busy with people, scurrying around like so many worker ants. The King’s floating bathing machine remained anchored at the end of the pier, despite His Royal Highness now being far too unwell even to think of returning to use it, at least for a while. They could see the warehouses on the far side of the river, and, beyond these, the elegant curve of grand terraces which fronted onto the Esplanade, with the creamy margin of the broad sandy beach in front. The whole scene was beautifully set in a landscape of rolling green hills, with the Ridgeway beyond. By this time the blue sky of the afternoon was becoming a little watery and pale. A fine, high cloud had started to form over the hills. It fringed the clifftops with a curtain of soft colour, reflecting pink and purple from the slowly setting sun.

  Maggie could feel the beauty all around her. It made her tingle.

  ‘Oh, my goodness,’ she exclaimed, quite mesmerised. ‘What an utterly delightful surprise, Mr Staveley. How absolutely beautiful it looks – I could stand and look at it for hours. The terraces down there. They look like little dolls’ houses – so pretty – and the countryside and cliffs beyond – and that incredible sky. I must admit, I hadn’t really appreciated just what splendid countryside we find ourselves in hereabouts. I have not experienced the countryside over much at all, I suppose. I was born and brought up in London and never really thought of it before.’

  ‘It is certainly m...most fine. And have you seen over there, M...Miss Owens?’ Mr Staveley was pointing across the bay. ‘Have you noticed that white horse, cut into the hill? The horse has a man upon his b...back – see? I understand it to represent the King. He is reputedly m...most fond of Weymouth. He will be m...most disappointed if he is not to see the town again.’

  ‘Yes. It must be so sad for the old gentleman not be able to live where he wishes. At least you and I have some choice about where we go.’

  ‘Choice? Well – a m...modicum of choice, I suppose.’

  ‘You think not? Perhaps you’re right. I daresay that there is actually very little upon which we have a totally free rein. Maybe it’s just as well. We should have no-one else to blame, after all, whenever anything happened to wrong.’

  They shared a smile and took a final lingering look at the view. Then, a little reluctantly, they set off down the hillside together and past the barracks to the bustling quayside below.

  Chapter 11

  ‘You’re concerned about something, Kathy.’

  Mr Berkeley was sitting with his wife one wet evening shortly after this, helping her to wind wool in the parlour. Kathryn indulged in a thoughtful sigh, and nodded.

  ‘You are right, of course, my love. I find myself in a quandary, you see.’

  ‘A quandary that I can help you with at all?’

  ‘Maybe,’ cautiously. ‘Though I daresay you would take the masculine part. You gentlemen are all the same.’

  Andrew gave her a little smile.

  ‘You intrigue me more and more. So you are in a quandary about – let me guess – a little affair of the heart, maybe?’

  Kathryn looked back at him sheepishly.

  ‘All right, all right,’ she acknowledged. ‘I cannot hide anything from you - I can see that, Drew. It is actually about Miss Owens. I am very concerned for her. I fear – well, I fear that she is becoming attached to Mr Wright. It will turn out badly for her, I know it.’

  ‘Miss Owens – the governess? But why do you concern yourself about Miss Owens, Kathy? Do you not think she can look after herself?’

  ‘No, I do not, as a matter of fact. She is passionate and alone. She needs somebody to love and Mr Wright will take advantage of that, I am sure of it.’

  ‘I expect he will. But is that anything to concern you?’

  Kathryn frowned at him.

  ‘Of course it is, you horrible man. She will ruin herself. I cannot just stand by and watch her as she does it.’

  ‘But why ever not? It might be entertaining.’

  ‘Now Andrew, you are funning me but it is not funny at all. She is yet a young woman. She has lost her father and her position in the world. She is making a big mistake in her life. I just feel that I should warn her – show her that somebody cares – but I fear that she will not listen to me.’

  Andrew suddenly realised why she felt concerned. She could see it in his face.

  ‘Oh, I have it – she reminds you of yourself, doesn’t she? You were alone - your papa had died – you needed someone to love and that devil of a husband of yours turned up to sweep you off your feet. But believe me, Kathy - William will not try to shoot her. He is far too much a coward for that.’

  ‘No, William will not shoot her but his wife may do so - not physically, most likely, (although I daresay she might have a go if she happens to own a pistol) but metaphorically at least. Just think what would happen if ever she suspected such an affair. Her fury - and her retribution - would know no bounds. The poor girl would never get employment ever again – and then what should she do? William would never act honourably towards her. Even if he wanted to, Georgiana would never allow him to offer her so much as a penny. She would be thrust onto the streets to starve. But I can perhaps do something to help her – to warn her of the danger she is in. I could not live with myself if I were just to stand by and do nothing – but I don’t know how to go about it. I do not feel that we are on such terms as to make my intervention acceptable to her. I wish you would help me rather than treating it like a joke.’

  Andrew could see that his wife was genuinely concerned. It was no less that he should have expected. He placed his hand softly on her arm to reassure her.

  ‘You will find the right place and time, depend upon it, my dear. Go with your own impeccable instincts. Say what you need to say in that gentle, unthreatening way of yours and I daresay you won’t go far wrong.’

  Chapter 12

  Having established some understanding between them by dint of Mr Staveley’s admission regarding Miss Brewer, and their subsequent evening ramble home, it was only natural that Freddy and Maggie should continue some intercourse in the same vein whenever the opportunity arose.

  The opportunity actually arose quite shortly after the Berkeleys’ party, as Mrs William had forged an alliance with another matron with children of a similar age to the twins and had rather bravely determined on taking them to visit the family without their governess’s support.

  Maggie had therefore decided to undertake some much-needed practice on the Wrights’
pianoforte whilst she had the chance and Freddy, being immediately attracted by the sound of the music, had abandoned the work he was doing to mend Master Will’s new boat to come into the music room to listen to it. He was wearing the somewhat old-fashioned snuff-coloured coat and knee-breeches that he habitually wore in the daytime. She wondered fleetingly whether he actually owned anything else.

  ‘You p...play m...magnificently if I may say so, M...Miss Owens,’ remarked Freddy, as she concluded her first piece. ‘And the way in which your fingers fly over the keys on that fast b...bit. Well – I cannot im...imagine how you can possibly hit all the right notes.’

  Maggie gave a little laugh.

  ‘It’s all down to practice, I suppose, Mr Staveley. After a while you get to know the piece so intimately that you no longer have to think about what it is you are doing. I know all these pieces so very well that I scarcely need the written score at all.’

  ‘I like m...music,’ he said. ‘We don’t get anything good on b...board ship, of course, but we do sing and p...play quite a bit. I can p...play the fife and the fiddle, though I wouldn’t pretend to be m...much good.’

  ‘And are you able to read music, Mr Staveley?’

  ‘No, not at all. I have to p...pick things up as b...best I can.’

  ‘What a pity. Perhaps we could have tried a duet.’

  Mr Staveley looked gratified.

  ‘I should like that,’ he said. ‘P...perhaps we could try something? It m...might entertain Miss B...Brewer when next she calls round.’

  Maggie felt a little mean. She had not meant anything by the suggestion, really. She had merely said the first thing that had come into her head. However, the thing was said and Mr Staveley appeared to be so enamoured of his great idea that he went immediately up to his room to fetch his violin. And to be fair, he actually was quite good – remarkably so, in fact, for it turned out that he had only to hear a new piece once or twice to enable him to execute an accompaniment which complemented it exactly.