Claire explained. ‘Mr Reseigh is fetching the stands.’
‘And Mrs Opie says that Miss Howard-Leigh requested this?’ Jacob asked ponderously.
‘I did, Jacob, for the sake of privacy and security,’ Bettany answered, starting to descend the stairs. ‘Good morning, Miss Opie,’ she said after she had alighted at the bottom, on Jacob’s hand.
‘But I hardly think it’s necessary, my dear. I can’t really see our guests taking the liberty of going upstairs. It would strike some as unfriendly. I can’t ably care for the parish if it looks as if I don’t think they can be trusted.’
Mark returned with the china stands. Hearing the resolve in the vicar’s voice he did not speak but came to stand still beside Claire.
‘Well, I do think it is necessary, Jacob.’ Bettany was insistent, although the sleepless nights she had spent over today’s event showed in her fraught nerves. Every bit of input Bettany had suggested for the Tea Party the damned Opie woman had overridden. The Opie woman had no respect for Bettany’s position, and to Bettany’s bewilderment and anger, Jacob had agreed with all the woman’s outrageous interference. ‘Leave it all to Mrs Opie this time, darling. She knows the local people.’ He had said it in a soothing tone Bettany had come to hate.
‘I’ve got some valuable items in my room and I hate the very thought of some stranger going through my things. The innocent wouldn’t see a barrier as a slight; why should they? The mothers will be pleased; it will help keep their children under control.’ Bettany felt near to tears. How dare Jacob put the feelings of his parishioners before hers? He could be romantic and he made her promises for a wonderful life together, but he was able to turn that side of him off in an instant, and from what Bettany had seen, she came a low second to his calling. It would be understandable if they had been married many years, but his indifference to her feelings and comfort was getting dangerously close to an insult.
‘Darling, I really think—’
‘Well, if my opinions don’t matter to you, Jacob!’ Bettany’s voice rose sharply with each word and she trembled with outrage. ‘Mrs Opie didn’t put any objections against my wish, and it’s her opinion that counts, isn’t it?’
Silence. The whole house fell silent. Staff who had been moving about in all quarters had heard their new mistress’s furious cry. Mrs Opie came hesitantly out of the dining room, Winifred peeping worriedly over her shoulder. Claire and Mark glanced at each other in acute discomfort, instinctively drawing back. Claire’s cheeks had reddened in embarrassment. She sympathized with Miss Howard-Leigh, she had heard her mother cast aside all the lady’s attempts to have a say in today’s effort. But her mother could be oversensitive as well as insensitive, if she felt offended she would march out and demand that Claire go with her. Please God, don’t let her do that, Claire prayed. She had found a purpose for her life. She was at last content with her lot, not to be putting herself first, a shallow, determined husband hunter, as she was before her encounter with Mr Benedict in the wet lane. His easy-going attitude had helped her to change. But she did not agree with his public opposition to Miss Howard-Leigh’s simple request, one that had every justification in view of locals like the light-fingered Gabby Magor. He had humiliated his fiancée; it was cruel of him. Mark must have similar thoughts to Claire; she noticed him glaring at Mr Benedict.
In one overwhelming second Jacob was rocked to his soul at realizing how callously thoughtless he had been. He had belittled the woman he loved, treated her as if she was a petulant nuisance. He had embarrassed his best and most willing helpers, the two in front of him quiet, amenable people.
‘Bettany, forgive me.’ For the first time he fumbled over his words. Tm so very sorry. I’ve been – forgive me. Of course there must be a barrier across the stairs. It’s what everyone does when opening up a big house to the public. People are used it. I–I don’t know what I was thinking. You have my humblest apologies, darling.’ His eyelids fluttered, his jaw twitched, and the whole of his face and neck was suffused with the darkest crimson as he appealed to her. ‘I beg your pardon too, Miss Opie, and Mark, oh, a–and Mrs Opie. I–I’ll disappear. You’ll get on far better without me. Excuse me… excuse me.’ Moving many faltering steps backwards, Jacob whirled round and fled back the way he had come.
Claire glanced at her mother. She was gazing down dejectedly at her notebook. Claire thought, Good, she realizes she went too far wanting to rule the roost where she had no right to.
‘I too owe you my apologies, Miss Howard-Leigh. I’ve overreached myself. I can see how it’s upset you,’ Marjorie said humbly.
‘Thank you,’ Bettany replied imperiously, pleased to have at last gained the upper hand. ‘I shall arrange the flower displays for the hall. Do excuse me all of you.’ Head up, she walked sedately off down the passage.
‘Well,’ sighed Mark, giving Claire a winsome look. ‘Let’s get this barrier up then. Miss Howard-Leigh hasn’t realized she’ll have to move it to one side each time she needs access or to use the servants’ stairs.
Mrs Opie joined them. ‘One thing is certain,’ she said, quite maliciously. ‘The romance between the vicar and the young lady is very one-sided.’
‘Oh, Mother, really,’ Claire protested, and Mark was glad to hear it.
* * *
‘Blackmail or trouble? What do you think would make me the best fun at this daft tea party then, Tickle?’ Gabby grinned maliciously, where she sat at her filthy kitchen table in her ramshackle home, Claze Wyn. Her elbows were on the space she had cleared of dirty mouldy dishes, and she was gobbling down splits slavered with fresh farm butter and golden syrup, her favourite food. Tickle was up on the table, his usual station on the few occasions his mistress sat here to eat. More often she took her meals into the front room, which doubled up as her bedroom. Up on his little hind legs, Tickle was licking off the sticky sweetness stuck to Gabby’s chin. She took a swig from her tin mug of hot strong tea and kissed Tickle’s tiny rounded head, allowing him to continue with his fierce pleasure of cleaning her wobbly sun-damaged cheeks, chin and neck.
‘I’m sure that Tresaile bitch and her friend’s brother ’n’ wife would pay me a pretty penny to keep me mouth shut at what I heard them women say. Love affairs and lies. Huh! Just so-called posh people who can’t keep their knickers up and trousers on! Then they got the bleddy cheek to turn their fancy noses up at me. I haven’t ever gone behind another woman’s back and bedded her man. Me and my cousin Barbara might like a cuddle with each other and that’d be considered worse!’ Gabby was getting angry now, seeped in the hurt and offence she believed was hers suffered over a great many years. ‘But that’s cus we were never considered pretty enough to take a man’s eye. Not our bleddy fault!’ Gabby thumped her fist down on the table, sending her oddments of crockery and cutlery to clatter off on to the grime-lagged floor, to join other pieces she had sent there during previous bouts of ill temper. Tickle leapt back in fright, but returned straight to Gabby and smothered her face in wet-lick kisses. Unlike other pets she had kept only briefly, Gabby had never hurt the little mongrel and she would never dream of abandoning him. She had taken to Tickle for some reason and had even grown to love him, her constant companion. Downing the last of her tea, including the tea leaves, she scooped up Tickle to her chest and carried him across to the next room and flopped down on her bed, a battered old settee, settling down for a snooze. But she had more to say before closing her eyes.
‘Had hard lives, me and Barbara. A nice sum of money would set us up for a long while, we deserve it.’ Gabby brightened. ‘Barbara could do her place up a bit. New curtains, she’s always wanted new curtains. I’ll get her a wireless and one of them gramophones; see her face then. We could have a bit of music when we get together. We could go on a little holiday. Never had a holiday in my life. Yet them posh bitches live all their lives as one long holiday, living off passed-on money, prancing round doing good deeds and ’specting everyone to be grateful and kiss their bleddy arses.’ Angr
y again. ‘Then they’ve got the bleddy nerve to turn their noses up at people who work and graft and make good money for themselves. You’d like a holiday, wouldn’t you, my handsome, my precious boy?’ she cuddled Tickle in tighter. ‘Blackmail it is then.’
A moment passed. ‘And lots of trouble too and lovely red faces.’ Gabby drifted off to sleep with a blissful grin on her ugly features.
Fourteen
‘Wow, what a sight, all those delicious cakes!’ Lily enthused, scanning the tables crammed with every kind of sponge sandwich and variation of iced, fruit, cherry, caraway seed, yeast and saffron cake, in round, square or loaf shapes. There were pyramids of cupcakes, and sandwiches and savouries. In her best red matching hat and coat, shoes polished, and her face scrubbed and shiny, she had arrived between her doting parents holding their hands, but had soon left them for Joe and Richard. ‘See the sign? You can buy a whole cake or buy the slice to drink with a cup of tea, or cordial for us. I don’t know what I’ll choose. Mum and Dad have each given me a sixpence, and I’ve got a lot of pennies from all my brothers. They’re all coming, except Douglas, of course, he’s still too shamed to show his face anywhere. I’ve got heaps for the bran tub. I’m going to be first in line.’
As usual Richard was in a grumpy mood. ‘We’re not interested in what you’re doing. Soon as I can get away I’m off.’
‘Do what you like,’ Lily smirked at him.
Joe raised his eyes to the sparsely decorated, plaster ceiling. The moment his friends met and started their sparring, he was practically forgotten. The tea room had filled up quickly with people, and he sought his mother, anxious to see she was strong enough for this, after all the hard work she had put into the planning stages, and the endless baking. He’d had enough of the smell of cake, and he had tasted many at the mixing stage, so he would choose from the hills of sausage rolls and savouries. Then he saw Christina, with Beth beside her, and his heart was filled with pride. His mother was the most elegant, tastefully dressed woman in the room, and to him the most beautiful. Her understated softly styled clothes and hat, her careful sparing use of jewellery and make-up, made her chic and graceful. People were giving her second and third looks, and approaching her reverentially and leaving her gratified at whatever words she had given them. His mother was the lady of the moment, not the stuffily clad organizer Mrs Opie. His mother was the lady of the house instead of the jittery Miss Howard-Leigh, who was flitting here and there like a demented moth, plainly not knowing where to go or what she should be doing. Kitty was there, as stunning as ever, with her brother and his family. Joe was disappointed to see Kitty had not lessened her thinly veiled hostility towards Mrs Copeland.
Jacob, who had been welcoming the arrivals as they filtered in from outside and along the passage, thought it was about time to go through to the dining room and get Bettany to formally open the event. After her indignation of the morning she had stayed frosty with him until after their quick light lunch, but had then become sharply nervy. She had written her speech days ago and had been confident and happy with it. A few minutes ago she had fluttered the paper in front of his eyes, finding fault with every word, and he had seen in her near panic. Why was she acting like this? Speech making and event opening had always been part of her life, from her venerable grandfather and father, her mother and herself. ‘It’s perfect, darling,’ he had stressed. ‘You’ll impress everyone, there’s nothing to fear.’
‘Well, as long as the know-all Mrs Opie approves, I suppose it will do,’ Bettany had snapped, and Jacob had felt impatient over her continuing sarcasm.
Jacob gathered Bettany, Christina, the Opies and the other committee members together in front of the crockery table. His staff and some lady volunteers, including Mrs Reseigh, were on the other side, wearing white aprons, and ready to put to use the steaming urn and huge teapots. Pitching his sermon voice, he called for hush. After a few moments and lots of shuffling everyone was facing him. Then Alison Praed and Judy Crewes entered with their respective fiancé and husband. Behind them came Rob, one arm still in a sling, the other proudly bearing a radiant-faced Evie, her gloves off to display her Vage heirloom engagement ring. ‘Ah,’ Mrs Reseigh sighed in the way women do when seeing something wonderfully poignant. People looked and took notice and a wave of ahhs went round the room. Rob paused in the doorway to show off his bride-to-be. Joe and Richard exchanged looks that this sickened them.
‘Magnificent.’ Jacob went into full oratory stride. ‘Our other cause for celebration has arrived – our two future bridal couples. I’m sure we all wish them our heartfelt congratulations! I’m sure everyone is eager for our first annual Grand Tea Party to be under way, so I shall duly hand over to my own charming bride-to-be, Miss Howard-Leigh.’
‘For goodness sake get on with it,’ Joe hissed between his teeth.
Applause resounded. Then people were annoyed to be shunted aside by Gabby Magor. Noses wrinkled and hands went up to faces at her mouldy smells, and disdainful looks appeared over her outlandish appearance. She had her usual man’s outfit on but had added a discoloured thimble-shaped hat with turned up brim across her hefty brow. People shuffled back to find cleaner air and put space between her and them. She headed for the Copelands, and Louis sank back against his father’s legs. ‘Got that money you owe me boy?’ Gabby rasped.
Louis nodded nervously. He had tried to talk his parents out of them all coming here today and when that had failed he had hoped he could secretly slip the thirty shillings, most of which he had filched from his mother’s purse, to the frightening woman. Timidly, he put his hand out, the money held within it.
‘What’s this about?’ Stuart demanded angrily. ‘Louis, do you owe this person money?’
‘Yes, he does. He can tell you why later.’ Louis squawked in fright as Gabby snatched the money out of his hand. He would get a lecture and punishment for his misdemeanours and he would own up to them all, but that was better than the worry of this witch suddenly showing up and threatening him again.
Beth whispered to Christina, ‘Why of all people did she have to turn up?’
The astonished faces that were beaded on the Copelands shifted, sparing the family some of their embarrassment, as Gabby went on to her next quarry, the smartly suited Mark. He was near the front of the gathering and had Rowella up in his arms. Mark glared at Gabby then ignored her. Rowella stared at her from curious eyes.
‘Ahem,’ Jacob reminded the crowd of the proceedings. ‘Miss Bettany Howard-Leigh. A patter of clapping started up, and Bettany stepped forward and glanced at her note card. She raised her chin, determined to show her superiority and right to be the foremost lady here. ‘A very good afternoon everyone, it’s with the greatest pleasure that the Reverend Benedict and I welcome you all here today on this the inaugural occasion of…’
As Bettany continued, Gabby reached for Rowella’s tiny hand. ‘You’re a dear little mite, aren’t you?’
Unsure of her, Rowella turned away and snuggled into her father’s neck. Sighing crossly, Mark moved to deny the ogress direct access to his daughter. Immediately offended, as Gabby actually wanted to be, she spoke louder than Miss Howard-Leigh, now well into her speech stride. ‘I ’tended no harm to the little maid, you know! Have you ever known me hurt a kiddie? You gen’rally bid me good day, Mark Reseigh. Aren’t I good enough for you now then? Think you’re going up in the world, do you, now you’re courting the Miss Hoity Beth Tresaile?’
‘Now all that remains for me to do…’ Bettany went on, trying to raise her voice over the blatant disrespect. Greatly offended, she was horrified at the appearance of the hag and the beastly smells that had now reached her.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Mark hissed over his shoulder at Gabby. ‘Go away. I’m trying to listen to the speech. Don’t be so rude.’
‘Don’t take on with me,’ Gabby bellowed, tapping him hard on the shoulder. ‘I’m only telling the bleddy truth, heard her say as much with me own ears, I’m telling
’ee.’
Beth hadn’t quite heard the start of Gabby’s disruption, only the insult to her name, but her main concern was how Miss Howard-Leigh’s discomfiture was changing from irritation into wrath. Mark wasn’t in a position to eject Gabby, a scuffle would surely ensue and there would be risk to Rowella. Beth would have to do something herself, plead with Gabby for reason. But she didn’t get the time to move an inch.
‘Woman, will you please be quiet!’ Bettany snapped, her cheeks blood red, her eyes steaming with indignation. ‘Or leave at once.’
‘Leave!’ Gabby screeched. ‘I’m not leaving, why should I? I’m not going nowhere. I’ve lived in this parish all my life, and so did my parents and grandparents and their parents before them. You’ve only been here a few weeks, you’re an outsider, you got no right to order me about. Damned cheek!’
‘That’s it!’ Bettany threw down her speech. ‘I’ve had enough. I can’t stand this.’ Tossing up her head she made for the door, the bystanders respectfully making the way clear for her. Giving Christina a rueful look, Beth gently pushed her way through after her, hearing the furore of accusations shot at Gabby.
Bettany ran down the passage, reached the stairs, threw aside one of the posts and stormed up to her room. Beth reached her door to hear her ordering her maid to pack their things. ‘As quickly as you can, Collins.’
Gingerly, Beth tapped on the door. ‘Miss Howard-Leigh, it’s Beth Tresaile. May I please come in? I am so sorry that you were barracked by the infamous Gabby Magor, our local misfit. Everyone is mortified on your behalf by her rude disregard. Please don’t take it personally. She’s like that with everyone, I’m afraid. Please don’t leave. I’m sure she’s being ejected this very moment. I can assure you she’s the only person like that in Portcowl.’
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