Summerhills (Ayrton Family Book 2)

by D. E. Stevenson

  “White satin and lace,” murmured Mrs. Ayrton happily. “You will be in uniform of course, and the children in white, with gold sashes. We must keep it all white and gold. I wonder how many bridesmaids Nell will want.”

  Nell came in at that moment so her mother was able to ask her this important question. “There will be five children, of course,” said Mrs. Ayrton. “Stephen and Emmie and Connie’s three, but you will want some grownup bridesmaids, won’t you? I thought of Mary Findlater and Daphne Clayton.”

  “Oh, there won’t be time,” said Nell. “Besides we don’t want a lot of fuss. I’ve just been telephoning to Roger.”

  “But Roger is in Germany!” exclaimed Mrs. Ayrton in surprise.

  Nell laughed. “I know—but I just had to talk to him. I got through quite easily and his voice was perfectly clear. He didn’t seem a bit surprised and he’s coming over next week.”

  “Next week,” cried Dennis. “That’s good. I shall see him before I go.”

  “He’s coming over for the wedding,” explained Nell.

  “You mean—next week?” asked Dennis incredulously.

  “Yes, it would be such a pity if Roger couldn’t be here to give me away. He’s the right person, isn’t he? He can fly over on Monday and we can be married on Wednesday. Your mother will be able to come, won’t she, Dennis?”

  “Of course she’ll come—any time,” exclaimed Dennis joyfully.

  “A Christmas wedding is so pretty,” said Mrs. Ayrton, who had got left far behind. “And I can’t think what you mean when you say there won’t be time. We shall have three months to arrange everything and get your trousseau.”

  “Christmas? Oh no,” said Nell. “There’s no object in waiting until Christmas—unless Dennis would rather.”

  “No,” cried Dennis. “No, please! I mean Wednesday is the day.”

  Nell smiled at him. She said, “We don’t want a big party and a lot of fuss, do we?”

  “The quieter the better.”

  “That’s what I think. Duffy will be here of course—she’s coming home on Monday—so that will be all right.”

  “But Nell—your dress!” cried Mrs. Ayrton in dismay. “Your trousseau!”

  “I don’t want all that,” said Nell earnestly. “I don’t want to dress up and have a big party. I just want it to be quiet and peaceful so that we can think about what it really means.”

  Dennis nodded.

  “I’m sorry you’re disappointed, Mother,” continued Nell. “I know you would like me to have a big wedding—like Connie’s—with white satin and orange blossom and all the rest of it, but I just couldn’t bear it.”

  “I couldn’t either,” agreed Dennis. “At least I suppose I could bear it if I had to, but I’d much rather it was quiet and peaceful and—and solemn.”

  “Oh Dennis, you understand.”

  Of course Dennis understood. He hoped and prayed he would always be able to understand Nell’s feelings so quickly and easily.

  “So we’ll fix it for Wednesday,” said Nell. “Then we shall have nearly a week before Dennis has to join his ship.”

  “We shall have a full week if I fly. Where shall we go for our honeymoon? Paris?”

  “Oh, but I couldn’t leave Amberwell——”

  “You will leave Amberwell, my girl,” said Dennis firmly. “Amberwell will have to look after itself for a week.”

  “But Dennis——”

  “Amberwell can look after itself for a week.”

  Nell smiled. She said, “I suppose it can. Duffy will be here—and I’ve never been to Paris.”

  *

  3.

  The wedding was to be quiet, but there was no reason why it should be dull. Nell’s friends and relations decided that it should not be dull and acted accordingly. Mrs. Ayrton was incapable of organising anything and Nell seemed to be wandering in a dream so Poppet Lambert was forced to take things into her own hands; she called a committee meeting consisting of Anne and Mary and Nannie to make the necessary arrangements. The meeting took place in the kitchen at Amberwell on Friday afternoon. Mrs. Corner always rested in the afternoon so they were free from interruption.

  Although she was not a relation (unless you could count your son’s sister-in-law a relation), Poppet Lambert had always been particularly fond of Nell. She explained this to the committee and the committee agreed unanimously that Mrs. Lambert was the right person to take charge and organise the affair. It was not easy to organise, for the bride and bridegroom took no interest in it. They merely said they intended to be married in St. Stephen’s at half past eleven on Wednesday morning so that they would have time to snatch a hasty lunch before driving to Renfrew to catch the London plane. When asked what their guests were supposed to do—whether to snatch hasty lunches or be sustained with wedding cake—they replied that they did not want any guests.

  The committee meeting opened with a discussion upon this matter.

  “It’s all very well for them to say that they don’t want any guests,” Anne declared. “But we can’t send people home without giving them lunch. Roger wouldn’t like it—I mean it’s so inhospitable. We really must do something about it. Even if we don’t have any outside guests there will be all of us and Connie and Gerald and their three children and there will be Mrs. Weatherby and Roger and the Maddons and Mr. Orme. Mr. Dalgleish, the lawyer, is coming and—and—” she paused and looked at Nannie in despair.

  “We’ll manage,” said Nannie courageously. “I was thinking we’d keep Mrs. Corner till after the wedding—and of course Kate Duff will be here. She’ll not be able to do much with her arm, but she’ll be here anyway.”

  “Good idea,” nodded the chairwoman.

  “Cold chicken and ham, I was thinking,” continued Nannie. “And jellies and ice cream. It’ll need to be all cold because Kate and I will be at the wedding and Mrs. Corner’ll get in a rampage if there’s nobody to help her. Maybe we could manage hot soup to start with, but everything else will need to be cold.”

  The committee saw the point and agreed upon the menu for lunch.

  “There’s no champagne in the cellar,” said Nannie. “We used the last two bottles when the boys came home on leave.”

  “Johnnie can see to that,” said Johnnie’s wife, making a note of it. “He’s going to Glasgow on Monday and he’ll enjoy seeing his wine-merchant and having a little chat about it. He can get a small wedding cake as well.”

  “Flowers for the church?” asked Mary.

  “I was thinking about that,” said Anne. “I could do them if you like—and Mr. Gray would help. As a matter of fact I could ask Arnold too; he said he would do anything we wanted.”

  The committee agreed. It was a very agreeable committee.

  “Are the children to be bridesmaids?” asked Nannie.

  “No,” said the chairwoman firmly. “We haven’t time to bother with the children; they would just be a nuisance. One bridesmaid will be enough; it had better be you, Mary.”

  “Yes, you’re the right person,” nodded Anne.

  “Nell hasn’t asked me——”

  “Nell isn’t thinking about anything or anybody except that man. She isn’t even thinking of what she’s going to wear,” declared Poppet Lambert.

  “I know,” agreed Anne. “I asked her about it and she said it didn’t matter, but I think she means to wear that frock she got for the Claytons’ garden-party and it doesn’t suit her a bit. I do wish you could persuade her——”

  “Don’t worry, Anne. I’m taking her to Glasgow tomorrow to choose a new frock. She doesn’t know yet, but that’s what I’m doing.”

  “I doubt if she’ll go,” said Nannie.

  “She’ll go—if I have to bind her with ropes first,” said the chairwoman defiantly.

  The committee giggled.

  “You must come with us, Mary.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes. We can choose yours as well. Johnnie is giving it to you.”

  “Oh no! I mean it’s
frightfully kind of him, but——”

  “It’s fixed,” declared the chairwoman. “Johnnie said he wanted to give it to you, and it will hurt his feelings if you refuse. You don’t want to hurt Johnnie’s feelings, do you?”

  The committee settled these matters and others of less importance without any trouble at all, and the proceedings terminated with cups of tea brewed by Nannie and pieces of bread and butter and strawberry jam.

  “If Kate had been here you’d have got scones and cake,” said Nannie apologetically. “But that woman’s scones are not worth eating.”

  “Duffy will be home on Monday,” Anne reminded her.

  “Thanks be!” exclaimed Nannie. “The house will be different again once that woman’s gone.”

  They had all heard about Mrs. Corner’s delinquencies and were anxious to hear more, for if you did not have to bear with Mrs. Corner yourself her delinquencies were amusing.

  “Tell us the latest, Nannie,” said Mrs. Lambert, putting both her elbows upon the kitchen table and contriving to look elegant even in this inelegant attitude.

  “Well now,” said Nannie, nothing loath, “well now, it was just today at dinner-time and she was holding forth about that husband of hers (what a time the poor unfortunate creature must have had! Small wonder he died young!) and she said, ‘Corner was a great one for the girls.’ Quite pleased about it she was,” declared Nannie. “You’d wonder, wouldn’t you? If I’d ever got married—which I could have if I’d wanted—I’d have seen to it that my man didn’t look at anybody else.”

  “Quite right too,” put in Mrs. Lambert approvingly.

  “Well,” said Nannie, “well, this is what she told me——”

  But what Mrs. Corner had divulged they never knew, for at this very moment, when Nannie’s audience was anticipating a juicy piece of gossip, heavy footsteps were heard approaching along the passage outside the kitchen door.

  “That’s her!” exclaimed Nannie in alarm.

  The party broke up immediately. Three of its members fled through the back door and Nannie was left to face the gorgon alone.

  *

  4.

  Poppet got her way as usual and the expedition to Glasgow took place the following day; fortunately without the need for ropes but not without a great deal of persuasion. Frocks and hats and various other garments were chosen for the bride and the bridesmaid—nor did Poppet forget to choose a fascinating outfit for herself—and on their return the car was so full of cardboard boxes that there was scarcely room for the passengers.

  In Nell’s opinion the expedition was a waste of time, for she had planned to pack a picnic lunch for herself and Dennis and to spend the day in his company, but she would not have been human if she had not been pleased and even a little excited by the contents of the cardboard boxes.

  Chapter Twenty

  1.

  Roger arrived at Amberwell on Monday in time for lunch. He had been told it was to be a very quiet wedding—and no fuss—so he was surprised to find the house in a state of upheaval. The big drawing room was being prepared and the dining-room table had been lengthened. He was still more surprised when, on going into the pantry to look for Nannie, he discovered Mary Findlater cleaning the silver.

  “Good heavens, what’s happening!” exclaimed Roger.

  “Oh, hullo Roger. We’re just getting things ready,” said Mary cheerfully as she laid down a glistening spoon and started work upon a dull one.

  “Where’s Nell?”

  “Trailing round the garden with Dennis, I expect. They’re both quite mad, but Poppet is taking charge so everything will be all right. There’s no need to worry.”

  “I thought it was to be quiet.”

  “Yes, but you can’t send people away hungry, can you? The bride and bridegroom may not want any food but other people will . . .” and she proceeded to give Roger an account of all that had been done and was being done by the wedding-committee, pointing out that they were really doing it on his behalf and for the honour of Amberwell.

  “Yes, of course,” agreed Roger. “It’s awfully good of you to bother. Just tell me what I can do to help.”

  “Ask Poppet. She’ll tell you,” replied Mary.

  Poppet was doing her best to organise the household, but in spite of her efforts it was rather a muddle for there was so little time and Nell seemed incapable of putting her mind to anything practical. This was annoying, but Poppet found Marion even more annoying because she insisted on interfering. She was completely bewildered by the fuss and went about the house getting in everybody’s way and declaring that they could not have the wedding on Wednesday.

  “Christmas would be so much better,” said Mrs. Ayrton in vexation. “I don’t know why Nell is so stubborn about it. Connie was married at Christmas-time and it was such a beautiful wedding. Everybody said so.”

  Poppet was sick and tired of hearing about Connie’s beautiful wedding. It was Gerald’s wedding too, of course, but Marion seemed to have forgotten that.

  “What are you going to wear, Marion?” Poppet enquired.

  “Oh dear, I don’t know. I suppose I shall have to order a new dress.”

  “There isn’t time. The wedding is the day after tomorrow. What have you got that you can wear?”

  “Nothing,” exclaimed Mrs. Ayrton helplessly.

  This meant another job for Poppet. She was forced to delve into Marion’s wardrobe and find something fit for her to wear.

  It was all the more difficult because Poppet was having guests at Merlewood. Gerald and Connie and the three children were all coming to the wedding and were staying two nights . . . and although Poppet adored her son and was reasonably fond of her daughter-in-law she could have done without the company of her grandchildren very easily.

  Unfortunately Connie had got hold of a book upon Child Psychology and had studied it with care. The book said that children should be allowed to express their ego; they should never be thwarted, never scolded and of course never punished. From their earliest days the Lambert children had been brought up in accordance with the book and, as they were quite intelligent enough to realise that they could do exactly as they pleased without reproof, they took full advantage of their license.

  Most of their friends and acquaintances were of the opinion that the Lambert children were intolerable little nuisances but their parents doted upon them and had no eyes nor ears for anybody else.

  Poppet was not a child-lover at the best of times. She liked to be in the limelight herself. She liked to talk, not to listen to the inane chatter of the young. She hated her conversation to be interrupted. Poppet’s house was beautiful and peaceful and ran on oiled wheels, but when Gerry and Joan and little Marion were there it was anything but peaceful. They were noisy and argumentative and took pleasure in practical jokes of a very annoying character. And they were so careless and untidy that their belongings were scattered about in every room.

  The young Lamberts were not welcome visitors at Merlewood.

  *

  2.

  Luckily for all concerned, Mrs. Duff returned to Amberwell on Monday and although she was unable to do much with her arm—as Nannie had foretold—she was able to use her head to good purpose. Her presence had a steadying effect upon the household. Even Mrs. Corner (who had got into a rampage at the sight of six large chickens and one enormous ham which she was expected to cook in preparation for Wednesday’s luncheon) was subdued by the presence of Mrs. Duff. Duffy could be dignified when she chose and she had decided to be very dignified in her behaviour to Mrs. Corner.

  Mrs. Duff arrived at Amberwell in time for tea and began her campaign by settling herself in her usual chair at the head of the kitchen table (which Mrs. Corner had occupied in her absence) and inviting Mrs. Corner to be seated upon her right as was due to an honoured guest. Nannie took the vacant seat and awaited developments. She had not long to wait.

  “I hope you’ve found things comfortable here, Mrs. Corner,” said Mrs. Duff in her best p
arty manner. “I left in a hurry so maybe things were not just as neat and tidy as they might have been.”

  “Since you ask me they was not,” declared Mrs. Corner.

  “But they’re worse now,” said Mrs. Duff blandly. “I’ve never seen the kitchen in such a mess in all my life.”

  “I’ve been accustomed to a kitching-maid——”

  “Me, too, Mrs. Corner. There were three of us in the kitchen at one time—before the war, that was—but I’m not sure we were any happier nor the kitchen better kept.” She looked round at the clutter and added, “I’ve always been used to having things nice. That’s the truth of it.”

  Mrs. Corner had become very red in the face. “I’ve been accustomed to the very best,” she declared. “Nobody ’asn’t ’ad better places than me. I was with Lady Seven for eighteen munce as cook-’ousekeeper with all the ord’ring—and the keys of the staw-cupboard. I ’ad a kitching-maid an’ a woman for the rough—never ’ad to soil me ’ands! I wouldn’t never ’ave come if I’d known Miss Hayrton would ask me to peel pertaters! Lady Seven was a reel lady; she ’ad two cars an’ a stable with a ’orse in it for ’unting—very keen on ’unting she was. There was a butler—an’ everything regardless.”

  “Why did you leave?” enquired Mrs. Duff with interest.

  (Goodness! thought Nannie. Why did I never ask her that?)

  It was obvious that Mrs. Corner did not like the question. She hesitated and then said, “I wanted a change. Oh, Lady Seven went down to me on ’er bended knee in a manner of speaking—but I wanted a change.”

  “Fancy that!” said Mrs. Duff in surprise. “If I’d got a place like that I’d have stayed on. Not that any place could be better than Amberwell nor any lady nicer to work for than Miss Ayrton.”

  “You ’aven’t tried.”

  “I wouldn’t leave Amberwell for anything.”

  “Not if you was offered a job at Buckingham Pallis, I s’pose,” said Mrs. Corner with a nasty little laugh.

  “I never was,” admitted Mrs. Duff. “I was offered a job at Balmoral Castle, but I refused it.”

  Nannie gazed at her old friend with admiration. This was carrying the war into the enemy’s country with a vengeance. It was perfectly true, of course. Kate Duff’s cousin was one of the staff at Balmoral, and some years ago she had written to Kate asking if she would like her name put forward for a vacancy in the kitchen. Kate had not considered it for a moment; she had merely said that nothing would induce her to leave Amberwell, and that anyway she would rather be a big fish in a wee pond than a wee fish in a big one. It had seemed so unimportant at the time that Nannie had forgotten all about it. How lucky that Kate had remembered it! How clever of Kate to remember it just at the right moment and to mention it with a casual air, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to be offered a post in a royal residence—and to refuse it.