Lady of Lincoln

by Ann Barker

  ‘We are all longing to hear the end of this enthralling tale,’ prompted Mr Trimmer.

  ‘Tale? Oh, of course! Brain like a sieve.’

  ‘That retentive, eh?’ Sir Gareth murmured.

  Lord Stuart grinned good-humouredly. ‘Well, we left Freddy’s and went to Slaughters, then on to another place or two, and finally home. And it was then that I noticed I’d not got my cane. Went back in my mind. Did I have it at White’s? Yes, because some fellow said ‘Fine cane, Stuart’ – or did he say Fenn? – and I said, yes it is, or something like that. Did I have it at Boodles? Yes, I put it on the floor by my chair. Did I have it at Freddy’s—’

  ‘Yes, we have grasped your thought processes,’ the baronet interrupted. ‘You went back in your mind through all the places that you had visited, and were convinced that you had had your cane on every occasion.’

  ‘Marvellous!’ exclaimed Lord Stuart. ‘Now why didn’t I think to put it like that? But that’s just what I did. So the next day, I got up and went back to all the places I’d been, starting with the last which I think was Hamilton’s. Went in; found a waiter: said “Have you found a cane with a silver top – might have left it here last night?” “No sir,” was the answer. Went to the next place …’

  ‘Allow me to précis that for you,’ Sir Gareth said kindly. ‘You went back to all the places that you had visited and asked them if they had seen your cane.’

  ‘I don’t know how he does it,’ remarked Lord Stuart, shaking his head. ‘Did just that; and guess what?’

  ‘You’d left it at White’s all along?’ the baronet suggested.

  Lord Stuart stared at him in amazement. ‘It’s uncanny,’ he breathed. ‘How did you work that out?’

  ‘Perhaps he was of your party,’ suggested Mrs Trimmer, smiling at Emily, who had been listening to the dialogue in amazement. She could not remember hearing such a conversation in her life before.

  ‘No, never,’ Lord Stuart answered shaking his head. ‘He runs with a much more dangerous set. Anyway, it just goes to show.’

  ‘Goes to show what?’ asked Mr Trimmer cautiously.

  ‘I lost my cane; thought I’d had it all along; didn’t have it at all. Fellow could easily think he was in Gainsborough and find he was in Lincoln. Easiest thing in the world.’

  They all laughed as they went into the inn, but Dr Boyle, who brought up the rear, followed his polite laughter with a contemptuous snort.

  None of the party was ready for food just yet, so they decided to have a cold drink – the day being decidedly warm – and stroll about the town a little before a light lunch which Mr Trimmer bespoke on their behalf as soon as they arrived. The gentlemen each had a glass of the landlord’s home brew and pronounced it very good, whilst the ladies, together with Oliver and James, were very grateful for a drink of the landlady’s own lemonade. Oliver had looked rather tired when they came into the inn, but the drink, together with a few cakes which the landlady brought in on a plate, soon revived him. Under cover of some other conversation, Mrs Trimmer told Emily that the ride was the longest that her son had attempted.

  ‘He has done so well, but he was quite determined to ride with the men. He idolizes his uncle, as you have probably noticed.’

  ‘At least he will have a good rest before the journey back,’ Emily pointed out.

  ‘Yes, and if he is too tired, Gareth will manage by some means to persuade him into the barouche.’

  None of them wanted to be sitting about for long, so as soon as everyone’s drink was finished, they left the inn and walked out into the sunshine. The boys were all for going to have a look at the river, and as the White Hart, situated in Lord Street, was not very far from there, the whole party agreed that such a stroll would occupy the time before luncheon very well. Needless to say, the boys were full of questions, and Dr Boyle, who had had relatives living in the town at one time, quickly found that he was being looked to as the authority on all matters pertaining to Gainsborough.

  Noticing this, Sir Gareth informed Emily that he was sorry about her change in status.

  ‘My change in status, sir?’ she asked him, wrinkling her brow.

  ‘Why certainly, ma’am,’ he replied. ‘We changed the day for this outing in order to take advantage of your local knowledge, if you recall. Now you find yourself outshone completely.’ They were standing quite close to where the doctor was describing the dramatic effects of the spring tides to two fascinated young boys, whilst Mr and Mrs Trimmer looked on. Mrs Hughes and her cousin had wandered a few steps away and were talking quietly together.

  ‘It is quite true,’ Emily replied. ‘What is to be done?’

  The baronet looked down at her, pretending to consider the matter. ‘Well, it’s too late to take you back now,’ he said eventually in tones of mock regret. ‘I’ll just have to make the best of your company, won’t I?’ His words, taken at face value, were ungracious, but his eyes told a different story.

  What a contrast she was, the baronet thought to himself, looking at her as she turned her face away, her cheeks flushed becomingly. In some ways, she was far more experienced than other women of her age. Her visits to the prison, her work for the poor, her time spent with the sick and the dying had given her a breadth and depth of understanding that was rarely found in gently bred ladies. Her interest in the world about her, too, was, in his experience, unusual. Yet in anything concerning intimate relations between men and woman, she shied away like the most innocent of very young debutantes. His sister had suggested that there might be an understanding between Miss Whittaker and Dr Boyle. If there was, then it could not be a very passionate one.

  Conscious that he had been staring down at her for a little too long without saying anything, he murmured in a low tone, ‘By the way, you do look delightful in Aurelia’s gown. It was an excellent choice.’

  She looked up at him again, a startled expression on her face. ‘You know, then,’ she exclaimed, her tone matching her expression.

  ‘My dear Miss Whittaker, I was with her when she chose it,’ he returned. ‘I thought it charming then, and I still do.’

  ‘Then you don’t mind?’

  He laughed. ‘Why should I mind?’ he asked her. ‘My sister has a perfect right to do what she wishes with her gowns, especially when the results are as pleasing as they are now.’

  At that point, Mrs Hughes and her cousin joined them, with some question about the new bridge over the river, and they all strolled on a little, looking at the water. This time, Emily found herself walking with Mr Trimmer, whilst the boys ran ahead under the watchful eye of their uncle, and Lord Stuart chatted with Mrs Trimmer on his right and his cousin on his left.

  Emily was just trying to decide how to bring up the matter that was disturbing her, when Mr Trimmer made the whole business easy for her by saying, ‘Have I told you how delightful you look, Miss Whittaker?’

  By now, Emily’s conscience was troubling her so much that instead of thanking him for his compliment, she simply said rather vaguely, ‘Oh dear.’

  ‘Pardon?’ responded the clergyman, somewhat startled.

  ‘You know of course that … that …’

  ‘I know the source of your gown,’ Mr Trimmer interrupted. ‘Are you worried that I do not approve? I can assure you that I do. Aurelia was very apprehensive about moving to Lincoln, but came because she knew that I wanted this appointment. Thanks to you, she feels that she has found a friend. Any kindness that she can do you in return must be approved by me.’

  ‘You are very good,’ Emily answered, her brow still wrinkled in anxiety. ‘I value your wife’s friendship, and am grateful for her kindness.’

  ‘But you cannot approve the deceit that has been practised?’ he hazarded.

  ‘That is exactly it,’ she agreed. ‘I would not have minded everyone knowing …’ Her voice tailed away, as she imagined the reaction of Mrs Hughes, and even of Lord Stuart, had they known that her dress was only borrowed.

  ‘Miss Whittaker,
I think you are not being entirely truthful,’ Mr Trimmer observed acutely. ‘Besides, from what I did hear of the conversation, and from what Aurelia has told me briefly, there was no real deceit. The maker of the gown was named, my wife was mentioned as being the one who ordered it and whose taste was consulted. If you never have any misdemeanour more serious than this with which to belabour your conscience, you will be a very happy woman. Now, forget all about it and enjoy the day.’

  Taking this sensible advice to heart, Emily dismissed the matter from her mind, and while they completed their stroll, she told Mr Trimmer about her other friend, Mrs Fanshawe, and the new baby that surely must be born soon.

  Lunch at the White Hart was well served and tasty, but not too heavy. Afterwards, Mrs Trimmer said that she would like to lie down, and Mr Trimmer bespoke a bedroom so that she could do so. Emily, looking at the tender expression on his face as he told her that he would keep his eye on the boys, wondered whether she had told him about her condition.

  Mr Trimmer then said that he would take the boys down to the river again and see if he could find a boat that would take them for a ride. Dr Boyle recommended a walk around Gainsborough Old Hall, and then a visit to All Saints church.

  ‘It was built in the late 1400s,’ he told them, ‘and in its time, it was visited by royalty. It has now, I fear, become much neglected, but the outside is still worth examination.’

  The party of five set out from the White Hart, but turned to the right before they reached the river, so as to visit the Old Hall. This time, Mrs Hughes managed to manipulate the situation so that she was holding on to Sir Gareth’s arm, whilst the doctor offered his to Emily. It was the first time that she could remember his ever having done such a thing. Lord Stuart strolled along on his own, addressing an occasional remark to his cousin or to Sir Gareth.

  ‘That is indeed a pretty gown you are wearing,’ remarked Dr Boyle rather shyly, remembering his faux pas earlier.

  ‘Thank you,’ Emily answered demurely. She had learned her lesson from Mr Trimmer and, since it seemed more likely than ever that the gown would be hers, decided to say no more on the matter.

  ‘I … er … that is to say, I …’

  ‘Yes, Dr Boyle?’ Emily prompted.

  ‘I can think of nothing wrong in the daughter of a clergyman wearing something pretty,’ he went on in rather painstaking tones. ‘Or a daughter of a doctor doing so.’ He glanced at her quickly sideways and ploughed on. ‘I am of the opinion that a wife of a clergyman or of a … a … doctor, could also wear such a gown with a clear conscience.’

  ‘Then since I am a clergyman’s daughter, that must be of great comfort to me,’ Emily answered him.

  ‘Yes indeed,’ agreed Dr Boyle. He opened his mouth to make his meaning more plain, but before he could say anything, Emily spoke.

  ‘There is something that I have been wanting to tell you, Doctor, but I did not want to say it within earshot of my father, for fear of building up his hopes. A couple of days ago, I saw my grandfather open his eyes.’

  ‘You are certain?’ Dr Boyle replied, turning towards her now with that confident assurance that characterized all his professional dealings. ‘Many a person has thought that he has witnessed such a thing – in a mirror perhaps, or from a distance, but it has only been a trick of the light.’

  ‘No, it was not an illusion,’ Emily replied. ‘I was looking at him at the time, and I saw him slowly open his eyes, then close them again. Does this mean that he will recover, do you think?’

  ‘It is too early to say,’ he replied cautiously. ‘But I have known cases when a person has remained immobile as your grandfather has done for some time, then regained many of their faculties. It is as if the body decides that it needs a complete rest, and simply takes one. But although we must not be hasty here, I must say that it is a good sign.’

  ‘Oh, thank you!’ Emily cried, turning a glowing face towards him.

  Sir Gareth and Mrs Hughes, following behind, were in an excellent position to see how the doctor beamed down at his companion in response. ‘What a charming end for this expedition it would be for Dr Boyle and Miss Whittaker to announce their engagement,’ mused Mrs Hughes. ‘A doctor and a clergyman’s daughter, neither of them in the first flush of youth. What match could possibly be more suitable?’

  The baronet’s response was merely a grunt.

  Gainsborough Old Hall was indeed an impressive building at first glance, but on closer inspection, neglect could clearly be seen, from the untended garden, to the shabby paintwork and the occasional broken window.

  ‘What a pity,’ exclaimed Emily. ‘I can remember visiting it when I was quite a young child, and I’m sure it was not as bad then.’

  ‘Scenes from one’s childhood are always rosy,’ remarked the baronet.

  ‘No they ain’t,’ replied Lord Stuart. ‘I still remember the beating I got for climbing up onto the barn roof. That’s not a rosy memory.’

  ‘No, but I’ll wager your backside was,’ the baronet retorted.

  ‘Sir Gareth! You are in the presence of ladies!’ declared the doctor, shocked.

  ‘I beg your pardon, ladies,’ answered the baronet, bowing slightly, but there was still a twinkle in his eye.

  When they had looked their fill at the Old Hall, they walked on to All Saints Church, which was only a short distance away. This time, Emily found herself walking with Sir Gareth, whilst Mrs Hughes set out to charm both Lord Stuart and Dr Boyle at the same time.

  ‘I suppose I should feel guilty that I have deprived the good doctor of his companion, especially when he was clearly enjoying your conversation so much,’ the baronet remarked. Moments later he could have kicked himself for a comment that would have been picked up by such as Mrs Hughes as an example of jealousy.

  Emily, however, simply took his words at their face value. ‘He was telling me some good news about my grandfather,’ she said, and proceeded to inform him of the doctor’s opinion.

  ‘That is indeed encouraging,’ Sir Gareth answered. ‘For how long has he been in his present condition?’

  Emily told him, and as she did so, he reflected what a strange household it was for a young woman to grow up in. No wonder she was different from other women he knew.

  While these thoughts were going through his head, Emily began to speak once more. ‘Since we are talking about my family, sir, I must take the opportunity of thanking you for … for giving Patrick back to me.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ the baronet asked, mystified.

  ‘You told me your memories of him, and by doing so, in some way enabled memories of my own to be released,’ she explained. She began to recount the things that she had recalled as she lay in bed a short time before, together with one or two other cameos that had returned to her mind since then. He chuckled as she did so, and so did she, but suddenly, to her astonishment and mortification, she found that she was crying as well.

  ‘My dear Em— Miss Whittaker,’ he said concernedly. He glanced round. They were a little ahead of the rest of the party. ‘Come, we’ll walk round the outside of the church,’ he said. ‘It will give you a chance to compose yourself.’

  Emily’s tears did not last for long. ‘I don’t know why I did that,’ she said apologetically. ‘Please forgive me.’

  ‘There is nothing to forgive,’ he answered, putting his handkerchief back in his pocket when he saw that her own was quite adequate for her needs. ‘I suspect that you were never really given a chance to mourn Patrick, and you are doing a little of that now.’ He paused briefly, then seeing that she was still looking a little downcast, he said teasingly, ‘You can have me for a brother, if you like.’

  ‘I don’t want you for a brother.’ The words were out of her mouth before she could recall them.

  The teasing expression vanished from his face. ‘Forgive me,’ he said, inclining his head gravely. ‘I didn’t mean to presume.’

  Emily stared at him in consternation. She wanted to explain to him that h
e was not presuming, but she could not think how to tell him so without revealing that the reason why she did not want him for a brother was because the feelings that he kindled in her breast were not sisterly. She did not know how to say this without sounding either brazen or immodest. All she could manage before they came within earshot of the rest of the party was, ‘You were not presuming. You simply took me by surprise. It was a strange idea, that is all.’ The smile returned to his face, but it was not quite as warm as it had been before.

  Although All Saints had a fine medieval tower, the body of it had been remodelled about fifty years before, and the visitors were pleased to approve the light, modern interior. As they were leaving, they were very surprised to find Mr and Mrs Trimmer entering but without Oliver and James.

  ‘The landlord came down to the quay and offered to take the boys back to the inn to play in the garden, since there were no boat rides available,’ the clergyman told them. ‘I knew that Aurelia would want to see the church so we came straight here.’

  The others offered to wait, but Mr and Mrs Trimmer insisted that they would be quite happy to walk back alone, so the other five wandered towards the White Hart, taking a look at the market place by way of a small diversion.

  ‘No, no, I am going to walk back with Miss Whittaker,’ Mrs Hughes declared. ‘You gentlemen can keep your distance. I am going to tell her what wicked fellows you all are.’

  ‘I say, coz, I protest!’ exclaimed Lord Stuart. ‘Look at Boyle! He’s a physician! What could be more respectable? As for me, there’s no vice in me at all, I swear it. Ask anyone you like. Ask Blades here! Mind you, the things I could tell you about him…!’

  ‘Balderdash!’ retorted Sir Gareth cheerfully, but there was a hint of worry behind his eyes.

  ‘Now, my dear, we have got rid of the gentlemen so you can tell me everything,’ said Mrs Hughes in a confiding tone.

  ‘That would take rather a long time,’ Emily responded. Then, because she knew she must and because this was such a perfect opportunity, she said, ‘Mrs Hughes, you must allow me to beg your pardon for being so abrupt when I met you in the street, yesterday. The fact of the matter is—’