CHAPTER SIX #2
‘It was her ladyship’s wish, my lady. I am to be brought a bottle of sherry wine every quarter day. It is my indulgence, a half glass with my dinner sometimes,’ he yelled, whilst still sounding deferential.
‘And how do you manage, Mr Poulton, for cooking?’ Despite talking more loudly than she would normally consider polite, Louisa had to repeat the question.
‘Ah, I have sufficient to pay Mrs Filton, at the farm up the way, who sends her girl Molly over every day with a hot meal, and the lad chops the firewood. I am very well cared for, my lady.’
However true, the old man was a thin stick, and the light of living in his eyes was dim. Louisa agreed with Josiah Wyre; the old butler was dwindling indeed.
Mrs Filton at Three Oaks Farm was rather overwhelmed 86to have the landowner in her parlour, having only ever seen Lady Frampton when invited to the annual open day for her tenants at the Court, and sent young Molly off to the hill field to fetch her father.
The man arrived breathless, which embarrassed their guest. Whilst Lady Dembleby knew nothing of the minutiae of daily life upon a farm, as a country-bred young woman her questions were sensible, and her understanding of the answers not in doubt.
Both parties formed a good opinion of the other.
The next few days were stormy, and Louisa kept to the house, but then the wind dropped, and scudding clouds were replaced by sunshine, even if the sunlight was losing its warmth.
She went to the furthest of her tenants, heard his plans for the farm, saw the problems he was having with some infestation of beetle in his barn that was putting the roof beams at risk, and agreed to discuss it with Mr Orslow.
She and Joshua trotted back down the trackway that gave onto the lane that would take them back to the Court, and at the junction encountered Major Barkby, accompanied by a very tall, slim, smartly dressed gentleman in a stylish, low-crowned beaver hat, and with extremely well-polished boots.
She was in a strangely buoyant mood, and her cheeks were lightly flushed. The major touched his hat.
‘Lady Dembleby, your servant, ma’am. Taking advantage of the weather, I see.
May I present my good friend Mr Henry Gilmorton, who has come to bear me company for the week.
He says it is to persuade me that transferring to civilian life is not at all unpalatable, but I 87believe it is because he was tired of escorting his grandmama to the Pump Room every day. ’
‘Mr Gilmorton, I am delighted to make your acquaintance.’ Louisa smiled at him, which rendered him speechless for a moment. When he mastered his voice he responded apologetically.
‘Lady Dembleby. Forgive me, I … I may just have to call my “erstwhile” friend to book. He has spent the last half hour describing how we were to visit a widowed lady, giving your name, ma’am, one who was a friend of Lady Barkby’s and implying that she …
that is, you … would possess an ear trumpet and keep forgetting who we were. ’
Major Barkby was biting his lip in an effort not to give way to his emotions, but his shoulders shook.
‘I see. Then we, sir, will ignore him all the way to Elliston Court, and you may tell me as many disreputable tales as you know about his military career.’
‘Ah, now there, ma’am, you have me. As he has proved, he is a most “untrustworthy” friend, but he really is a capital regimental officer.’
‘I blush,’ murmured Major Barkby.
‘You see, that is the problem, Lady Dembleby. Much as his behaviour this morning might make one wish to call him to account, it is dashed hard when a fellow has saved one’s skin on several occasions.’ Mr Gilmorton smiled, wryly.
‘Yes, I can see that. Perhaps he was playing, um, a deep game, performing those acts so that in the longer term he might behave as badly as today and escape censure?’ She glanced at the unrepentant major.
‘Of course, you have 88not saved my person, so I am at perfect liberty to tell you, sir, that your portrayal of me as aged and infirm is cruel in the extreme, and may send me into a decline. Thankfully, there remain real gentlemen with nice manners, like Mr Gilmorton, who can rescue me from such a fate. I am not seeking compliments, Mr Gilmorton, but tell me true, do I look haggard?’
‘No, by Jove, ma’am, you do not.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I never suggested “haggard”,’ offered Major Barkby meekly, ‘or “decrepit”, if that is any consolation.’
‘No, sir, it is not.’ Louisa tried to look outraged and aloof, and failed.
Major Barkby was in truth as taken aback as his friend, for he had never encountered Lady Dembleby in such a mood, one that could only be described as ‘playful’.
Was she mercurial of temperament? Was it that she had found the constraints of deep mourning and being confined for so long so depressing to the spirit that she had now swung completely the other way?
Having learnt that frontal assault was not the only means of capturing a position, the major craftily took the lady in a flanking manoeuvre.
‘I was hoping that Miss Henley might make an appearance. I did promise to introduce my horse to her when last we met.’
‘Miss Henley? Do not say there is another charming lady residing with you, ma’am. I can see Barkby here is spoilt for company.’
‘Well, Miss Henley is rather young,’ conceded Louisa.
‘But utterly entrancing and without any artifice. Has 89the face of an angel.’ The major waxed lyrical.
‘Good Lord, you sound besotted.’ Mr Gilmorton was understandably surprised.
‘I am, but it would be cradle-snatching, alas.’ He sighed.
‘How old is the divine Miss Henley?’ enquired Mr Gilmorton.
‘Three.’
‘Three? Years?’
Louisa could not help it. She giggled. ‘Miss Henley is my daughter, Mr Gilmorton, and she is indeed three years old. She captivated Major Barkby at their first encounter.’
‘Rolled me up, horse, foot and guns,’ admitted the major, grinning now. ‘Has an interesting line in questions, very forthright, but I am totally at her feet. You wait until you meet her. You will permit her to come and meet Jester here, ma’am?’
‘Since she is bound to ask if she hears your name mentioned, I am not sure I dare refuse. She is very … persistent.’
If Mr Gilmorton was wondering how his friend came to be interested in small children, the answer soon became apparent.
Whilst Josiah led her ladyship’s horse to the stable, and promised to send the lad for the gentlemen’s mounts, Louisa went into the house, and emerged a couple of minutes later with Emily holding her hand.
Seeing the major, the little girl wriggled her hand from her mama’s clasp and ran towards him.
‘Barky!’ she cried in delight.
‘Emily! Manners.’ Her mama’s voice stopped her in her tracks. She stuck out her tongue a little way in 90concentration, and dipped in a sketchy sort of curtsey, then carried on running, her arms outstretched.
‘Up!’ she cried, and Major Barkby looked over her head and questioned with a glance. Louisa nodded. He crouched and swung her up in his arms.
‘Good morning, Miss Henley.’
The little girl frowned.
‘Miss Emily. I promised you should meet my horse, did I not? Now, you must not run at horses and shout at them, because they get frightened, but my horse is very old and knows about small people. Say hello to him.’
‘Just A Horse, hello.’
‘Do you want to stroke his nose? It is very soft, like velvet.’
Emily looked a little unsure, but then nodded, and held out her hand slowly, and stroked the big, velvety nose.
‘Nice,’ she said. Jester blew gently down his nose and she pulled back.
‘Do not be afraid. He likes you. He just wants to know what you smell like.’
‘Not eat me. Horse eat grass.’
‘That’s right. And he likes apples.’
‘Apples? Oh.’ There was a pause. ‘Mama’s horse Septic.’
The major raised his brow.
‘My horse is called Sceptre,’ amended Louisa.
‘Ah. Nice name for a horse.’
‘Better than Septic,’ whispered Mr Gilmorton, stifling a gurgle of laughter.
The stable boy was now standing ready to take the horses.
‘We will send Jester to a nice warm stable while we come 91and visit you. He will get cold out here, standing still. Say bye-bye to him.’
‘Bye-bye, Just A Horse.’ She gave the nose a final pat, and the lad led the horses away. The major began to bend to put Emily down, but gave in to a plea of ‘carries’, and only set her down upon the steps of the house.
‘She will twist you round her finger if you let her, Major Barkby,’ murmured Louisa, taking the child’s hand again.
‘It is a novel sensation, I grant you.’ He smiled, and she smiled back in such a way he thought his heart missed a beat. Suddenly she blinked, as though surprised, and turned to walk indoors. Mr Gilmorton, observing, drew conclusions.
‘I am not dressed to receive visitors, gentlemen. Might I suggest you await me in the drawing room. I will send Leece with … a glass of burgundy, or would you prefer coffee since it is quite chilly outside?’
They expressed a preference for wine. Hetty Goodworth came down the stairs, and Louisa gave her a smile before turning back to Major Barkby and Mr Gilmorton.
‘Mrs Goodworth will entertain you until I return. I will also take Emily to the nursery.’
‘Get book.’
‘You must say goodbye, Emily dear.’
‘But Barky here. Get book. Show him.’
‘Show him what, darling?’
‘Show him him.’
Louisa looked perplexed.
‘Am good. Show Barky book. Please, Mama.’
‘I confess to being intrigued, Lady Dembleby,’ said Mr 92Gilmorton. ‘Whatever this book shows, we really ought to see.’
‘Very well. But Emily, you show Major Barkby the picture and then you must go, for it will be your dinnertime.’
‘Yes, Mama.’
‘Excuse us, gentlemen.’ Louisa, wanting to set an example to her daughter, made a small curtsey, and the two men bowed. Emily bobbed, and then bowed too. Mr Gilmorton choked.
‘I see why you are enslaved,’ he laughed, when Lady Dembleby had gone upstairs, ‘though I think prolonged exposure to Miss Emily might be rather too exhausting. In small doses she is most original.’
‘I think she would keep one on one’s toes.
She will soon be old enough to be formal and polite and only speak when addressed, becoming “civilised”, but she is a force of nature at the moment.
Makes you feel old, my friend. I mean, you and I cannot recall when every single day was filled with new questions, new knowledge. ’
‘I remember school examination questions that showed up my lack of knowledge.’
Both gentlemen laughed, though reminiscences about their less than blissful schooldays were curtailed by Mrs Goodworth's seating herself and enquiring about Lady Barkby. Lady Dembleby soon after brought Emily into the drawing room, clutching a book. Mr Gilmorton caught his breath. In her riding habit the lady’s widowed state was almost forgotten, since habits were generally dark, but now, unadorned by any jewellery, and garbed in dull bombazine, Lady Dembleby presented a fragile figure.
No, 93actually she did not, but her youth and looks contrasting to her blacks made one think she did so, or should do so.
Emily let go of her mother’s hand and ran across to Major Barkby as the gentlemen stood up.
‘See my book.’ She held it out. It was an alphabet book.
‘Emily, what did I tell you?’ Louisa did not chide, but her voice was firm, and the child glanced round, and nodded.
‘See my book … sir.’
It was right that she learn, but Major Barkby felt a twinge of regret at the impetuous frankness being curbed. The adults sat down, and Louisa smiled.
‘If you turn to the letter S, Major.’
He took the book, and Emily, used to being read books whilst upon her mama’s knee, frowned. She was not permitted to climb onto furniture, but would not otherwise be able to sit upon the sofa. The frown disappeared as she solved her problem, tugged the scarlet sleeve and pointed next to him.
‘Me sit too … please.’
He lifted her onto the sofa, and Louisa held her breath, and then berated herself for foolishness.
He did not need fingers to hold a small child between his hands.
Emily settled herself close to him and peered over his arm as he turned the pages, pointing out H for horse and M for moon, and then reaching S.
He did so slightly clumsily, holding the book steady as best he could with his gloved remnant of hand, and turning the pages with his left.
‘See? You.’ Emily pointed to a stylised wooden soldier in scarlet jacket and white trousers and with a tall shako.
94‘Not a perfect likeness,’ murmured Lady Dembleby, and he looked across at her, and felt the sudden connection between them again.
‘I, er, lack the rosy red cheeks, I admit, Lady Dembleby.’
‘They do look especially … healthy.’
‘Not perhaps a little feverish?’ The two circles of red upon the cheeks rivalled the coat.
‘Oh no, just a good healthy glow, sir.’ She smiled.
‘May I see?’ asked Mr Gilmorton, and the major lifted the book and turned it to face him.
‘Dashed good likeness, I would say, Barkby.’
‘Thank you. I am flattered.’
‘Now, Emily, you have shown Major Barkby your book, and must go for your dinner. Mr Gilmorton, would you be so good as to ring the bell?’
Mr Gilmorton, nearest the fireplace, rose and tugged the bell rope. Betty, who had come downstairs in readiness to remove Miss Emily, entered, curtseyed and waited, as Emily was lifted down.
‘Enjoy your dinner, Miss Emily,’ Major Barkby said as he did so.
She turned to him, beaming, and he handed her the book.
‘Thank you, Barky sir.’ She attempted a rather deeper curtsey, whilst holding the book, and collapsed in a heap on the floor, where she giggled. Betty came forward and picked her up. Major Barkby rose and bowed, and Mr Gilmorton followed suit, with formality.
‘Bye-bye.’ A small hand waved at them above Betty’s shoulder, and then she was gone.
95‘Your daughter is charming, Lady Dembleby,’ declared Mr Gilmorton.
‘I indulge her too much, I am sure, Mr Gilmorton, but she is all I have.’
‘Of course, I am sorry …’ Mr Gilmorton inwardly cursed his clumsiness.
‘No need, sir, I assure you.’
Major Barkby saw how she changed in a moment, became cool and almost challenging, as though daring anyone to say she ought to be a grieving Niobe.
The conversation became the standard polite phrases of a social call, and the gentlemen excused themselves soon after.
After they had been shown out, Louisa went to the window, and looked out as they mounted and trotted off down the drive.
‘Such nice gentlemen, both,’ said Hetty Goodworth.
‘Yes,’ said Louisa, without smiling, and still watching the receding figures.