Hatty gave an impatient sigh. ‘How many times, Sydney, do I have to tell you that my answer is No, and would always be No, were you to stand here till Judgement Day? As for your partiality, I cannot recall any manifestation of it in the past. I think you deceive yourself there. You certainly do not deceive me. We should not suit. Now, let me see you out – I wish to join the girls on the carriage sweep.’
She opened the door and passed through it ahead of him, observing, but without any particular concern, his expression of sullen chagrin.
‘How do they all go on at the house in Lombard Street?’ she inquired politely, as they passed a couple of footmen in the hall. ‘Does Tom still go to day school? The household must be very much diminished now. It makes me sad to think of your father. He must be lonely. Do you go back there often?’
‘Hardly ever!’ snapped Sydney, as they left the house. He looked round for his horse, which a groom was holding and now led forward. ‘I understand,’ he went on sourly, approaching the stocky cob – evidently Sydney was not one to waste his cash on ostentation when it came to horseflesh – ‘I understand from Tom that my father has every intention of marrying Burnaby when he is out of his blacks for my mother. It will save her wages,’ he added.
‘What?’ Hatty stared at Sydney, transfixed, as he rather clumsily mounted and gave the cob a kick. Then she suddenly ran after him.
‘Oh, Cousin!’
‘Yes, what?’ He turned to give her a malevolent look.
‘You said that dearest Aunt Polly had left me a book of household receipts – do you have it with you?’
‘Oh. Yes. To be sure.’ Clumsily, ungraciously, he delved in a saddlebag and handed her down a small volume wrapped in brown paper. ‘Much good may it do you – I suppose even the Fowldes do not expect you to help in the kitchen?’ he inquired disagreeably, and urged his horse into a trot.
Gazing after him, Hatty realized, with rueful amusement, that part of his bad temper was indubitably caused by the fact that the footman had never returned with the glass of wine he had asked for. Momentarily she felt a touch of pity for her cousin. Poor fat Sydney. However much he prospered in his legal career, he would never acquire that effortless air of command, of inborn, natural authority that Lord Camber, however shabby his appearance, or the Abbé du Vallon, with all his peculiarities, would always exercise.
Tucking the wrapped-up book under her arm, she joined du Vallon and the girls. Watching their cheerful antics as they bounded about, she pondered Sydney’s statement that the Abbé had an unsavoury reputation. Unsavoury in what way? she wondered. And remembered, unexpectedly, from long ago, a gardener at Bythorn Lodge, whom her father had had occasion to dismiss, unpaid and even with angry threats of legal penalties, because he had made undesirable overtures to two of her sisters, Fanny and Maria.
Maria would not ever state, precisely, to her sisters, what had happened. She merely said that it had been most disagreeable.
‘But what did he do, Fanny?’
‘Oh, he kissed me – in a very horrid way.’
Hatty herself could remember the man – Fawkes was his name, a thickset, burly man with bristly hair and prominent red lips, and he smelt always of sweat and sacking. He had kissed her too, though she was only six or seven, and had clutched her against him in a way that she strongly disliked, wriggling free as soon as it was polite to do so.
Whatever there might be of an unsavoury nature about the Abbé du Vallon, Hatty felt perfectly certain that it was in no way similar to the delinquencies of Fawkes the under-gardener. They seemed of a different species.
Suddenly grief overcame her. She turned to du Vallon.
‘Monsieur, my cousin – that young man – came to me with most unexpected news of the death of a near relative – my aunt, who brought me up. I need to be by myself for a while. Will you ask Lady Elstow to excuse me from dinner? And keep the girls entertained?’
The girls came inquisitively to hear what was being said. She felt three pairs of eyes fixed on her with interest, but without the faintest touch of sympathy.
But du Vallon was always equal to any social requirement.
‘Most assuredly I will tell her Ladyship, Mademoiselle,’ he said, bowing. ‘You must rest and grieve in peace. It is perfectly understood.’
‘Thank you, Monsieur. Good night, Barbara. Good night, Drusilla. Enjoy your game. I will see you in the morning.’
Toiling, with a weariness unwonted to her, up the stairs, Hatty wondered why Sydney had given himself the trouble of riding all the way to Underwood Priors. Was it just to inspect the Abbé du Vallon? And if so, why?
PART THREE
XVII
Letter from Mrs Fanny Price to Lady Bertram
Dear Sister Maria:
I write to appeal to you, since I get but Harsh words from Sister Norris and, latterly, not even very many of them. But you was always a kind sister to me and I remember many a Laugh and Comfortable Coze we had together brushing our hair by candlelight. Sister I do not deny that I was villainously misled in my Estimate of Mr Sam Price & should never have taken him if I had known of his Hasty Temper, Gross personal habits, Intemperance, Ignorance, and Nasty Ways in general. But, Sister, I put it to you, how many women, when they go to marry, do know anything more about their future Mates than I did about mine? A young lady meets a gentleman at an Assembly – they dance together a few times, he dines at her family’s house, they may take a stroll or two together – in the great majority of cases, that is the entire acquaintance a couple may have before they are united at the altar. I collect that you were fortunate in your alliance with Sir Thos who, my Sister Norris continually assures me, is all that could be desir’d in sobriety, benevolence and sagacity. But consider! It might have been far otherwise! You had met him on no more than 5 occasions (a picnic, a ball, and three dinner parties as I recall) before he offered for you, and I can well remember you crying all night because you had no mind for this heavy, dispiriting person and were in love with Ensign Stephen Tillinghast, who had not three farthings to rub together.
Dearest Sister Maria, pray consider my plight. Meat costs 6½d per pound, coals are 12s a ton and my husband allows me but 4s a week and often I have to look Sharp if I am to get that out of him. How am I to take proper care of my poor girl, my little Fanny, not to mention William and Sam, out of that? As often as not I am oblig’d to wrap Sam in an old Towel for lack of proper swaddling clothes. Do, I beg you, Sister, out of your abundance, send me but £10 – or even £5; or at the very least a parcel of linen. I hear from Sister Norris that you already have a fine family in your nursery. I daresay some of them may by now have outgrown their first clothes. And, Heaven help me, I am increasing again . . .
Your affectionate but despondent sister, F. Price.
Letter from Mr Nathaniel Claiborne in Baltimore to his cousin Luke Claiborne in Connecticut.
My dear Luke:
I send you this with a load of Salt Pork in exchange for the Maple Sugar which we are so glad to receive from you. It will be delivered by the hand of my ex-Master Carpenter Harry Liss who will see it to its destination and then go his ways to the Settlement which he is to join on the banks of the Susquehanna river. I shall be sorry to lose his services, for he was an excellent carpenter and many of the articles he made will see my grandchildren out. But in other ways I shall be greatly reliev’d to lose him, for never was there such a talker! My ears became tired at the very thought of his voice! One subject, one idea led on to another without intermission. From the first crack of daylight his voice could be heard, and though (I am bound to admit) much of what he had to say was full of sense, wit, and original thought, I am a peaceable simple fellow, as you know, and like to spend my days in quiet labour and contemplation. It does not suit me to be for ever discussing or arguing, or (what is worse) listening to some other person involved in discussion, however rational and virtuous. So I was glad
to compound with Master Liss for the second half of his indenture and (I may say) I am heartily sorry for his colleagues in the Settlement of Amity Valley for unless they are of a like mind with our friend, I fancy that after a few weeks they will be worn out with conversation and disputation. Yet he is a likeable fellow and I wish him well. I do not, though, entertain very high hopes for the future of their community if it is composed of Similar spirits; they will expend all their time and forces in discussion and nothing practical will be achieved.
All good wishes to your esteem’d wife my good sister-in-law Adelaide, and hope that the coming winter will not be too severe on you.
N.C.
Letter from Lady Ursula Ward to her sister Lady Mary Finster.
My dear Mary:
I hear from our sister Anne that you plan to travel up from Scotland and hire a house in Bath to spend the winter there for the sake of your husband’s Rheumatic Disorder. I was greatly interested to learn this, for I have had a few rheumatic twinges myself & should be glad to join you in Bath. As you know, I was oblig’d to leave Bythorn Lodge which, due to a most unfortunate and ill-conceiv’d Entail, passed into the ownership of my late husband’s nephew, Sydney, a thoroughly disagreeable and unmannerly young puppy of whom the less said the better. I accepted a very kind invitation from Lady Bertram (Mr Ward’s eldest daughter) and have spent some time at Mansfield Park, but the increase in that family (they have two sons and two daughters and all of them exceedingly healthy, well-grown, lively children) makes the Bertram establishment less comfortable than formerly, and Sir Thos, with his usual gentlemanly consideration, has suggested that I might prefer to find accommodation in some other household. I therefore with confidence in your sisterly hospitality, propose myself to you. I shall be glad to support you in your entry in to Bath society. I can of course bring my own bed-linen.
Yr affectionate Sister,
Ursula Ward
Letter from Lady Mary Finster to Lady Ursula Ward
Dear Ursula:
I am afraid that Finster will in no circumstances permit of your joining our household in Bath. He remembers too forcibly the continual dissension about the oatmeal at breakfast and the bread sauce. If you wish to visit Bath and take the waters there, I understand there exist professional ladies who, for a fee, accept guests and supply them with an introduction into Society there. I have heard of a Mrs Partridge who does this, and can supply you with her direction if you wish it. We shall then have the pleasure of meeting you sometimes at the Pump Room or the Bath.
Yours affectionately,
Mary Finster
Letter from Sydney Ward to Lady Ursula Ward
Dear Madam:
With regrets for imposing upon your Ladyship’s time, I write to inquire as to whether, by any singular chance, you are cognisant of the whereabouts of the Title Deeds of Lord Camber’s little property Thatched Grotto – as his cousin, it occurred to me that his Lordship might have apprised you of the document’s disposition, or, he might indeed have left it with you for safe keeping. If this is the case, I shall be most exceedingly oblig’d for the assurance that you have it in your possession.
I had occasion recently to call at Underwood Priors on a matter of family business & am glad to be able to inform you that your esteem’d Parent, Lady Elstow and your sisters, the Ladies Barbara and Drusilla Fowldes are all in excellent health. I am glad that my young cousin Miss Harriet Ward continues to give satisfaction in her position as Cicerone there and is herself acquiring a touch of that Elegance which residence in such an Elevated Establishment must necessarily bestow.
(I am the more grateful for this as I intend to espouse the young lady myself at no very distant date and so have her interests and situation very much at heart.)
Did you by chance see the messenger from Foale’s Bank who called at Bythorn Lodge on the day following Mr Ward’s decease?
Yr Obdnt Srvt
Jos Sydney Ward
Letter from Lord Camber to Miss Harriet Ward
My dear little Miss Hatty:
I cannot tell you how it rejoices my heart to know that you are still residing at Underwood and superintending the education of my young cousins Barbara and Drusilla. I know the young ladies display some little difficulties and oddities, but these, I feel sure, will soon yield to your friendly and inventive company and amiable handling, and I am happy to know that the peace and seclusion at Underwood proves a suitable nursery or pasture for your Muse to browse in! I remember so well your excellent treatment of those hapless twins. I greatly admired the Verses you so kindly sent and congratulate you with all my heart on your success in selling some poems to the European Review and The Gentleman’s Magazine. I admire your nom de plume and shall in future look out for stanzas by Anthony Bailiff. Members of our community receive several of these journals which are eagerly passed round here and discussed, so I shall hope to discover you in print before too long and shall pride myself on my secret acquaintance with the author. – I was a little concerned to learn that the Abbé du Vallon has been retained by Lord Elstow to make an inventory of his library; the Abbé is a clever man, and a man of parts, but I consider his company a trifle unwholesome, especially for the young. But I know that young digestions are able to consume almost any diet and derive nourishment from it – so I will try not to concern myself too greatly. However I hope that the Abbé does not continue for too long at Underwood.
Your sincere friend and well-wisher
H.C.
P.S. By the bye, do not forget that my offer of asylum at T.G. still holds – though I must reiterate that you are of infinite benefit residing where you do at present . . .
Letter from the Abbé du Vallon to his cousin Marcus Dariole
Mon Cher:
I remain here, as you see, a little bored, but lying low in safety; inquiries were coming rather too close in London, so this sinecure of an occupation fell at a most providential moment. And it has its advantages, as you shall learn in due course! I hope that matters go prosperously on your side of the Channel and shall look for good news before long.
Yours in fraternity,
Marcel
Letter from Lady Ursula Ward to The Honourable Lucy Kittridge
My dear Lucy:
Doubtless you will be surprised to hear from me after so long, but I thought that, cut off as I imagine you are in Amity Valley, you might be glad to have news from your English connections and to know that your sister Kate has been safely delivered of another son, making, I believe, her fourth. I have not seen her myself but receive copious bulletins from Aunt Sarah Chornleigh who keeps all the family news in circulation.
I wonder how your Society of Sophocrats progresses? Frankly, I give it five years, no longer; any association with three such diffuse and harum-scarum figures as Wandesleigh, your brother Humphrey and my cousin Harry Camber as its originators must soon crumble under its own weight of dialectics! It is sad, I grieve to predict the downfall of any well-intentioned enterprise, but so I fear it will always be. You may tell my Cousin, if you should think of it, that his father was in good health four weeks ago, by the account of Cousin Fred Wisbech, though the Duke continues decidedly eccentric and wayward; also that young Miss Harriet Ward who was, I believe, something of a little protégée of my cousin’s, will soon be married to her cousin, Sydney Ward, the attorney who handles part of the Duke’s business affairs. I daresay it is considered quite a good match for her.
With all good wishes,
I am Ursula Conway Fowldes.
Letter from Miss Letitia Stornoway to Miss Harriet Ward
My dear Miss Ward:
I hesitate to trouble you when it is entirely due to your good offices that I am alive and residing in this delightful household and still in this World at all. But what I have to tell you is, I believe, germane to your interests; and even if it were not, my sense of Rectitude would not pe
rmit me to remain silent. Can you, dear Miss Ward, find the time and the means to pay another visit here? I would not ask if I did not believe the matter to be of Serious Importance . . .
(unfinished)
XVIII
September came, but Lord Elstow did not pay the promised visit to Underwood Priors. His wife displayed perfect indifference to this non-arrival, but his daughters were disappointed and resentful.
Barbara wanted a new horse. ‘Firebird is long past her best days and has no more pace than a tinker’s donkey. She shuffles along so slowly that I might as well go out on foot.’
‘Then Drusilla and I may accompany you,’ said Hatty cheerfully. Barbara scowled at her. ‘But could you not write to your father and ask him to send money and instruct Harris to look out for a new mount for you?’
‘Useless! He never pays the least heed to my letters. It is most aggravating that he does not come home for the cub-hunting – then, he might have seen for himself how hopeless Firebird is becoming – besides, I love cubbing.’
This was another annoyance. Lord Elstow had allowed the mastership of hounds to pass into the hands of Colonel Wisbech so that the meets, which had formerly taken place at Underwood, were now held at Bythorn Chase, or even farther away at Market Saltby, almost on the other side of the county. Lady Elstow would not permit Barbara to attend these with only the escort of Harris. Both girls missed the sociability and excitement of the meets.
‘It is most vexatious! And Harris is such a slow old niggler. He wanted to stop this afternoon and go down to the brook in Sparsholt Wood – the silly old man said he thought he heard somebody call out – wanted to go and see what it was, but I soon put a stop to that. I told him that if we were not home by four o’clock he could start looking for another situation.’ Hatty thought how like her sister Ursula Barbara sometimes sounded. ‘But what do you suppose keeps Papa in London?’ Barbara went on discontentedly. ‘He used to be so fond of hunting.’