Dr Corby and Evelyn were constant visitors to Courtney Hall. Evelyn, though pleasant enough towards the Courtney family, kept herself aloof, and always had about her an air of sadness.
Georgiana’s romantic mind confided to me that she believed Miss Corby must have been disappointed in love.
‘Really, Georgiana,’ I admonished with mock severity, ‘ you think of nothing, but love and marriage.’ Georgiana’s black curls danced merrily.
‘And what, dear Louella, do you consider is more interesting than discussing what is, after all, all we girls have to hope for?’
‘Nonsense,’ I retorted, ‘ the times are changing. Many girls earn their own living as governesses—or something,’ I ended lamely.
‘Yes, I agree,’ she replied, ‘but I have such a feather brain, I cannot remember the simplest lines of poetry, never mind Greek and Latin and arithmetic’
She paused and I did not fail to notice the faint tinge of colour in her cheeks nor the dreamy expression in her eyes as she said,
‘Dr Corby must be very, very clever.’
‘Indeed, medicine is a hard profession, and one, I believe, in which the learning is never ended, for they are always making new discoveries.’
This conversation was taking place in a small summer-house overlooking the lake some two hundred yards from the house, one warm day early in June.
A boat appeared round a curve of the bank some twenty yards out upon the smooth water. Lazily, our conversation ceased and we watched the lithe figure of the oarsman as his firm, clean strokes cut the water and his craft skimmed along leaving ripple upon ripple ever-widening until they lapped softly against the bank.
Hearing Georgiana draw a swift breath, I glanced at her. There was no mistaking the pleasure in her expression and voice as she whispered.
‘It’s him, Louella, it’s Dr Corby.’
And with that she jumped up, straightened her skirt and walked down the short sloping path to the edge of the lake.
She waited a moment until Dr Corby had seen her, and then she waved. Dr Corby skilfully turned his boat towards the bank and in minutes they had joined me in the summer-house.
I had observed their meeting from a distance, and though his greeting was formal, I did not fail to notice that his eyes rarely left her face, and that she was more radiantly beautiful in his presence.
‘Good day, Miss Lloyd,’ he said in greeting.
‘Good day, Dr Corby,’ I replied, and we smiled at each other.
I knew he was a friend, for often when he visited Courtney Hall, he would search me out and hold long conversations with me, which I was sure he did out of pity for my lonely existence.
We all sat down in the summer-house, with Dr Corby between us.
‘It is time you called us by our Christian names, Dr Corby,’ Georgiana said.
‘Thank you. Nothing would give me greater pleasure, and please call me Charles. But will your mother or Sir Hugh be displeased?’
‘Fie, and I don’t care if they are,’ she retorted, pouting prettily.
Georgiana made her own decisions, Charles should know by now, I thought. Although she is only young, once she has made up her mind to something, nothing would change her.
And so we passed a pleasant afternoon in Charles Corby’s company, but when we returned to the house and he sped away in his boat, I noticed Georgiana seemed subdued and quiet.
‘Is anything wrong, Georgiana?’ I asked, for she was never sulky or cross for long, it was not her nature.
Georgiana smiled immediately, but I knew it was an effort. ‘Of course not, how could there be?’ And she linked her arm with mine.
As we entered the hall, Bassett was emerging from his study. Georgiana ran to him at once and he swung her round playfully.
I watched them and thought how wonderful it must be to be loved by a brother like Bassett Courtney. I had not only missed the joy of having real parents to bring me up, I thought, I had missed also being part of a family.
‘Bassett,’ Georgiana was saying, ‘I have been thinking for some time now, it is time Louella was shown the Courtney dagger, is it not? And you are the one to show her. Will you?’
Bassett turned and smiled at me, his brown eyes kindly.
‘Why, of course, If Louella is interested.’
‘This is the first I have heard of it, but yes, I should like to see it.’
‘We’ll go this minute,’ cried Georgiana and she dragged Bassett away by his arm. We all laughed and gaily Georgiana led the way to the portrait gallery which she had shown me on the day of my arrival.
We went past the portraits of the Courtney ancestors to a door half-way down one side of the long gallery hidden behind a blue velvet curtain.
Bassett lifted the curtain, opened the door and held it for us to pass into the room.
I gasped as I looked round. The room was filled with priceless silverware, clocks, china and jewellery. I had never seen such valuable articles nor so many all together.
‘These are the Courtney riches in possessions, Louella,’ Bassett explained. ‘You will go a long way before you find a larger collection.’
But as he spoke there was no note of pride in his voice as one might expect. He was merely making a statement. He led me to a large glass case at one side of the room. In it were two silver tankards, a gold watch, a silver bracelet, a diamond necklace and one of pearls, and other small articles. But all were overshadowed by a magnificent dagger lying on a black velvet cushion in the centre of the case. It was solid gold with three large rubies on its handle, and six smaller diamonds spaced out down the blade which finished in a wicked point, the sharpness a jewel itself.
‘The Courtney dagger,’ Bassett murmured, and this time his tone was full of pride. ‘It is the only thing in this room which I care about, Louella.’
Gently, he unlocked the case and lifted the dagger out. All three of us stared at the beautiful but dangerous weapon.
‘Shouldn’t it be locked away somewhere safer than a glass case?’ I queried, ‘if it so very valuable.’
Bassett smiled.
‘No one can get into Courtney Hall and as far as this without someone knowing, I am sure,’ Bassett said frowning slightly. ‘The only danger comes from those within Courtney Hall itself. But I think the servants are all honest and trustworthy.’
‘Tell her the story about the dagger,’ urged Georgiana.
‘Many years ago, almost three hundred, one of our ancestors, Sir William Courtney, went to war for Queen Elizabeth. He won many battles and succeeded in gaining Her Majesty’s particular notice. As a token of her gratitude for his bravery and loyalty to her and his country, she presented him with this dagger, saying that he should never let it go from the Courtney family, but that it should be passed down from generation to generation.
‘Over the years, the superstition grew around the Courtney dagger that as long as it was in the possession of the Courtneys they would prosper and flourish, it did not,’ Bassett’s tone hardened slightly, ‘promise happiness, but one cannot expect everything of it. However, this superstition grew strong amongst the Courtneys, especially when certain happenings seemed to strengthen the idea.
‘A later Courtney, the first Sir William’s great grandson, I think, was a philanderer and cared nothing for such superstitions. He landed himself heavily in debt and cared no more than to sell the dagger to help repay his debts.’
Bassett paused.
‘He had reason to regret his hasty and unthinking action. He died a violent death by drowning. His son, realising the folly of his father’s ways, worked hard, and although the Courtney estates were in jeopardy, he managed to make enough money to buy back the dagger. He was fortunate to be able to do so. But it happened that the man who had bought it was pleased to be rid of it again, for since he had bought it nothing but misfortune had befallen him.’
‘He lost his son, again by drowning,’ put in Georgiana, ‘and being a landowner like the Courtneys, he lost all his cro
ps in a drought, which nearly crippled him, and then the next year, as he had managed to plant more crops, he lost all those in a flood. So the poor man was ruined. Then the superstition really grew strong that if the Courtneys let the dagger go, misfortune will befall them, and whoever takes it from them, the same thing will happen to them—nothing will go right for them until the dagger is returned to the rightful owner, the Courtneys.’
‘And what happened when the dagger was returned to the Courtneys?’ I asked.
‘Everything began to go right,’ said Georgiana, ‘the Courtneys flourished, and the poor man who was ruined because he had bought it also prospered.’
‘The same sort of thing almost happened more recently,’ said Bassett. ‘My grandfather, you have seen his portrait in the gallery, haven’t you?’
I nodded.
‘You mean the one like Sir Hugh and Uncle James?’
‘Yes, but he was not like them in character.’
‘No, Georgiana told me,’ I replied. ‘But for your grandmother the Courtneys would not be where they are now.’
Bassett smiled, but without humour.
‘In more ways than one, I fear. But to get back to the dagger. My grandfather, Sir James Courtney, worked hard in his youth on the Courtney estate and added considerably to its wealth. He made a brilliant marriage, as they say, meaning my grandmother, Lady Florence Cunningham, was an heiress. In his middle age, though, Sir James grew tired of hard work and went to London to “live” a little.
‘A country gentleman born and bred was no match for the smart set of London and foolish Sir James was soon relieved of his fortune. He sold much of the family wealth and land, including the dagger, before my grandmother found out. Fearing the worst would happen, and in fact distressing incidents did take place …’
Bassett paused momentarily in his tale, and I saw the look which passed between Georgiana and himself, and noticed Georgiana’s slight shake of the head, as if to tell Bassett he was treading on dangerous ground, for he cleared his throat and hastened to finish his story.
‘Grandmother used her own money to regain the lost fortune and set the Courtneys to rights, as far as she could. She again managed to recover the dagger from its purchaser, who once more was pleased to be rid of it.’
‘Has it never been stolen?’ I remarked, running my fingers idly along the shimmering stones.
‘No, and I pity the thief who does, for he will surely regret it,’ said Georgiana fiercely.
‘Do you believe these superstitions, Bassett?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know really, Louella,’ he said thoughtfully, as he replaced the dagger in its glass case. ‘I am not a man who readily believes such fairy stories, but there does seem to be some uncanny power with this small dagger. Still, it is pleasant to think that whilst we have it, we cannot be cast into the streets to live as beggars.’
‘I wish I had something to safeguard me in that way,’ I could not stop the words, but immediately I wished I had.
‘Now that is the most foolish remark I have ever heard you utter, Louella,’ he said. ‘You seem to have little faith in our desire to help you.’
My heart beat painfully. Bassett was really angry this time. There was nothing I could do but apologise.
‘I’m sorry, I did not mean to be ungrateful, but at times I feel so dependent on you. It is uncomfortable, to say the least.’
‘Then don’t feel that way.’
And Bassett left the room quickly.
‘Oh Louella,’ moaned Georgiana, ‘you have put your foot in it this time.’
I was distressed, and angry with myself. Although inwardly I had disliked Bassett, and still did, because I owed him so much, at the same time to voice such thoughts was ingratitude in the extreme, and I did not wish to show that.
We left the room of treasures and walking by the portraits of Bassett’s grandparents, I looked at them with fresh interest. Grandmother Courtney sitting very erect, was stern and forbidding and so very like Bassett in her expression. But I could see from where Georgiana got her beauty. Although the picture had been painted when Lady Florence was old, there was no mistaking the fine features and proud bearing.
‘There’s another picture of her when she was younger,’ said Georgiana, ‘Look down here,’ and tucked away at the end of the long gallery was a smaller painting of Lady Florence.
‘Why, she looks a different person,’ I exclaimed. It was as if Georgiana stared back at me from the canvas. Lady Florence had most certainly been a beautiful woman, but in this portrait she showed none of the hardness which was apparent in the later one.
‘She was lovely in this one, wasn’t she?’ said Georgiana, ‘I think her unhappy life made her bitter and cynical by the time the other one was painted.’
‘How terrible,’ I cried, ‘that someone with such beauty should live an unhappy life.’
‘It is the way of the world, Victoria,’ a voice spoke sadly behind us. Georgiana and I spun round to see Sir Hugh Courtney in the doorway.
‘Why, father,’ welcomed Georgiana. ‘Bassett and I have just been showing Louella the dagger and telling her about it.’
I noticed that she stressed my name. I could not understand why Sir Hugh had called me Victoria, my mother’s name.
Sir Hugh came up to us and stood thoughtfully gazing at the portrait of his mother.
‘She was very beautiful. Sir Hugh,’ I said shyly.
‘Yes, but she was very cruel, my dear.’
He turned to Georgiana and put his hand on her shoulder. She moved closer to him, for I knew she was very fond of her absent-minded father.
‘Georgiana, my dearest child, you are the living image of your grandmother. But as you go through life, be sure you don’t cause the same unhappiness to your family as she did. Beauty is not everything, happiness should come first.’ And his voice broke painfully. As if he could trust himself to say no more he left us swiftly.
What a strange afternoon.
As I went to my room, the events flooded through my mind. Georgiana’s obvious attraction for Dr Corby would surely lead to a rift in the family if it became stronger and if Charles were to reciprocate. Bassett was obviously angry with me for my thoughtless remark in the ‘treasure room’ as I called it. And now Sir Hugh, firstly calling me Victoria and then displaying such emotion before his mother’s portrait.
I sighed. Dear me, this was a household of mystery and emotion, I thought. Gone were the peaceful, uncomplicated days I had known with Uncle James and Aunt Virginia.
My fears regarding Georgiana’s growing affection for Charles were soon justified. At any rate, to me.
Whenever his name was mentioned, her eyes sparkled and an attractive blush suffused her cheeks. And in his presence, she became more alive than ever, if that was possible for she was such an energetic person all the time.
But unfortunately Charles did not seem to return her affection to such a degree. Admittedly he was most attentive to her and whenever she was present, he could not prevent his eyes from straying to her lovely face continually. But then, what young man could resist her beauty?
But it was to me that he paid the greatest attention. He began to ask me to go for walks with him, and though this might have been considered improper, Lady Courtney readily agreed to me being allowed to go with him unchaperoned, for she was already beginning to look upon him as a possible husband for me.
But there were others who did not look upon this friendship with such glee. I was amused to see that I had at last pleased Lady Courtney on one point, but those who were displeased distressed me.
One, naturally, was Georgiana, and day by day she seemed to grow more reserved and distant with me. This, of course, upset me considerably for she was the greatest friend I had, and had I been in love with Charles, I should have been in two minds whether to reject his attentions because of Georgiana, so great was my affection for her.
But I knew I was not, and never would be, in love with Charles. If anything, he was
the brother I had always wanted, and indeed a dear friend, but I could never entertain the idea of him being my husband.
I wondered how I could tell Georgiana this, but she had never confided her feelings for Charles to me, and it was all surmise on my part that this was the cause of her unhappiness. But it was obvious that each day she grew more miserable.
My friendship continued to grow with Charles and was frowned upon by his sister, Evelyn. She, I concluded, had given her life in service, firstly to her parents, and now to her young brother. I learnt, from Charles, that she had been the cause of him becoming a doctor in the first place. Though he was loyal to his sister, and I believed he was very fond of her, Charles felt somewhat restricted in the same way I did with the Courtneys, because he owed her a debt of gratitude.
‘At the time our parents died,’ Charles told me one day as we strolled companionably over the moors, ‘Evelyn was twenty and I seventeen, and studying hard at school. Evelyn was sufficiently educated to be a governess, and rather than let me work to keep us both, she took a post so that I could continue my studies.’
We sat down beneath a tree.
‘Our parents left us poor, and needless to say, by the time the funerals were paid for, they died within three days of each other, there was no money left.’
‘How dreadful for you to lose them so close together,’ I murmured.
Charles shrugged.
‘Neither Evelyn nor I felt much love for them. My mother was a weak, bad-tempered creature. I hate to speak ill of the dead, Louella, but believe me it is the truth. And my father was a blustering drunkard most of the time. Not the most congenial surroundings for two sensitive children.’
I thought about Evelyn Corby. No doubt she inherited her mother’s sulkiness, but she was by no means weak. I was beginning to see that she doted on her brother and had him exactly where she wanted him—in her power because he was grateful for the sacrifice she had made for him.
Pride of the Courtneys Page 4