Curricle & Chaise (20 page)

In view of such thoughts the visit to Netley Court was certainly a most welcome diversion. The house itself was scarcely a hundred yards from the vicarage, on the opposite side of the road. Passing through the iron gates leading to the driveway Lydia could see the building looming up before her in the gloomy light. As far as she could make out it was quite a large building but it did not seem to be a very happy one. Rows of rectangular windows stared blankly out at her from across the frontage. A pair of massive chimney-stacks reached upwards to the sky. Around them some cawing rooks were squabbling over the most prestigious roosting place. The roofline was dominated by a giant hexagonal cupola. The stonework was crumbling, the front door heavy and ill fitting. The whole house was in a state of disrepair which contrasted rather sadly with its obviously elegant beginnings. For a second a shadow passed over her and made her spine tingle. She suddenly felt quite chilled.

Once inside, however, Lydia’s fleeting melancholy evaporated. She very quickly determined that the house could probably be quite a pleasant place, given a little care and attention. The hall was lofty, if musty, with a bowed mahogany staircase decorated with carved garlands and scrolls, whilst the parlour into which they were admitted was elegantly furnished in peach and blue, with a roaring fire in the grate.

Sir John and his two daughters were quietly engaged in a game of vingt-et-un but the cards were instantly forgotten (and allowed to fall to the floor in disarray) as he leapt up to greet his guests and usher them into the room.

‘Delighted,’ he cried, warmly, a beaming smile on his face. ‘Delighted you have come. Sit yourselves down. Cold again outside. Easterlies, you know. Must be frozen. Take the fireside, Mrs Bridger. I’ll introduce your niece to Fanny and Ju.’

Fanny jumped up at once to be introduced, and echoed her father’s welcome. She was a plump, jolly-looking young lady of perhaps three and twenty, of less than middle height, like her father, but with bright blue eyes and golden curls which gave her an angelic look which her lively manners appeared
somewhat to belie.

‘How pleased I am to make your acquaintance,’ she confided to Lydia. ‘When papa told me that you had come to Netley I was never so pleased in my life. Netley is not known for its lively society. Were it not for the goodness of Dr and Mrs Bridger in visiting us from time to time I think we should all curl up with the dismals!’

It was now Judith’s turn to be introduced. A slim, dark, pale girl, she was as unlike her sister as could be. She rose from her seat near the fire with some difficulty. The effort was as much as she could bear. Lydia was expressly reminded of Mrs Churchman but she cast the thought out of her mind as quickly as she could. The ruined game of cards was swiftly abandoned in favour of a general conversation around the fire. The coach accident formed the main topic. Sir John was only surprised that nobody had been hurt.

‘Too many accidents for my liking,’ he explained helpfully, his round face directed at Lydia. ‘Four or five a month, I reckon. In the summer the young bloods make a terrific dash for it. On their way to Brighton, don’t you know.’

Fanny rose to make the tea. W
ith Elizabeth busying herself with a fashion magazine that was lying on the table and Thomas making himself as comfortable as possible with the daily newspaper, on a rather worn, old fashioned high-backed chair, Lydia felt it incumbent on her to attempt some conversation with Judith.

‘You live in a beautiful part of the country, Miss Judith,’ she heard herself saying. ‘Although I have only just arrived here I am already delighted by the beauty of the downs, and Netley, too seems to be a pretty little place.’

‘Glad you like it, Miss Barrington,’ broke in Sir John, who appeared to be listening intently to the almost embarrassingly mundane comments that Lydia was making. ‘Wonderful country altogether – you are not wrong there. Great lover of Surrey myself. But where do you hail from? Not these parts, I’m sure.’

In the absence of any comment from the real target of her conversation Lydia found herself providing Sir John with a potted history of her recent past, dwelling on her partiality for town life but venturing to suggest that she should find Netley and its environs quite to her taste as well.

‘I am still unused to country life,’ she concluded, ‘having lived all my life at Bradbury until late. From what I have found so far, though, I am persuaded that I shall become the veritable country maid before the year is out.’

‘That’s right – take it as you find it. I’m sure we shall have no complaints about you. And your sister there (quiet little mouse – can never get a word out of her). Quite safe here, you know.’

Susan, who had been persuaded to accompany her sister to Netley Court only with the utmost difficulty, appeared not to notice that she had become the focus of attention. Sir John was mightily amused.

‘Quite a young lady, your sister, Miss Barrington. Knows how to behave, though she is so quiet. Always behaves most prettily. Very pretty family altogether, come to that. There are no more of you, I suppose? Pity. Can never have too much of a good thing, I always say.’

‘You flatter my nieces, Sir John,’ protested Elizabeth, taking some tea from Fanny and smiling. ‘You must take care what you say – they will grow vain and idle and think themselves too good for the vicarage, else.’

‘You think I neglect you, Mrs Bridger. God save you, my dear. Could never neglect you. Quite the reverse. Said yourself you’d been meaning to pay us a call. Had to invite you particularly in the end.’

‘You are not so great a visitor yourself, Sir John,’ put in Thomas, setting the newspaper down regretfully. ‘You cannot blame the whole upon us, you know.’

‘More reason to visit you now,’ suggested Sir John, almost to himself. ‘Won’t be kept away, don’t you know.’

Just as he said this an elderly servant appeared with a plate of sweetmeats, which Sir John then attempted to press upon everyone present. Lydia felt compelled to accept his largesse, though she did not want it. He was tireless in his efforts to entertain. He talked to Thomas about the hunting, to Elizabeth about the apple stock, and to Lydia herself about her long journey from Abdale House. Picking his own subjects and scarcely needing a reply he reminded her of some blustering brown bird, chest puffed out, making his business out of everyone else’s. It was not unpleasant sitting in front of the fire listening to him and it came as some surprise when Dr Bridger straightened his tails and, eyeing the clock, declared his intention to leave.

‘I have a sermon to preach in the morning,’ he reminded them all, good humouredly, ‘for which I require a clear head and a good night’s sleep. Delightful though your hospitality is, Sir John, I regret it affords me neither. With this in mind we must bid you and your daughters ‘adieu’ and hope to see you on the morrow in my church.’

‘Ha,’ laughed Sir John, ‘well said, Dr Bridger. You remind me of my duty, as always. Not offended, though. I see I must let you slip away. Cannot stand in the way – God’s work after all. Pleased to see you for all that. Good night, good night.’

So saying, the party broke up. Sir John himself opened the door and allowed his visitors to hurry back to the vicarage (for it was a frosty night) and bed.

After the Sunday service Fanny Ferdinand returned to the vicarage with Elizabeth, Lydia and Susan. She was neatly dressed, but not in high fashion, in a round robe with flounced hem and a flat crowned bonnet with velvet strings. The bonnet was a source of great interest to Elizabeth, who instantly resolved to re-trim an old one of her own in similar style. Lydia was more interested in Fanny’s reaction to Elizabeth’s teasing about a young gentleman who had sat with her during the service. From the blushes and smiles resulting from Elizabeth’s words she concluded that her new acquaintance was resolved to remain Miss Ferdinand for as short a time as possible.

Elizabeth was attempting to persuade her that the young gentleman in question would do her no good.

‘For you must remember, my dear Fanny, that whenever Dr Bridger attempted to instil the rudiments of Latin grammar into him he would never take in a word. It augers badly for the future, I’ll be bound. After all, who, if they will not listen to Dr Bridger, will ever take notice of a wife?’

Fanny laughed.

‘Now then, Mrs Bridger – just because I choose to sit with a gentleman in church doesn’t mean that I intend to be married to him. Why, Miss Barrington here shall marry Mr Ramsbottom, the toll-keeper, if your conclusions are correct.’

Elizabeth tried to look severe.

‘It is not at all the same, Fanny, as well you know,’ she scolded. ‘Mr Ramsbottom is already married, and fifty if he’s a day. Mr Wyndham is the most eligible bachelor in the neighbourhood, charming, rich and not a day above five and twenty. Just mark my words. If you continue to allow him to sit with you in church you will be standing with him at the altar before the year is through.’

Fanny did not appear too concerned at the prospect.

‘Mr Wyndham will doubtless decide on that, Mrs Bridger,’ she retorted. ‘He has certainly given me no reason to think that he wishes to marry me and I am not at all sure that I should accept him even if he asked. His dislike of Latin is an obvious impediment and I know for a fact that he is far too fond of apple pie ever to agree that plum is better. But now,’ she concluded, glancing at the large clock adorning the kitchen wall, ‘I really must be getting back to the Court. Papa will be home soon and he likes me to be there. But pray, Miss Barrington,’ she said, turning to Lydia whilst putting on her gloves, ‘do, I beg you, have the goodness to call on us whenever you are able. We sadly lack for company at the Court and if you can stand our village chatter I shall try my best to amuse you. Just call on us whenever you are able – we do not stand on ceremony round here.’

The invitation was warm, and accepted with genuine pleasure, so a few days later, having completed her tasks, Lydia determined on repaying the visit. Although she could not persuade Susan to accompany her, and Elizabeth was engaged elsewhere, she found that it was quite a pleasure to make the short journey on her own. But as soon as she entered the driveway she was beset by her earlier feelings of dread. Viewed in the daylight she could see that Netley Court was even more decayed than she had previously thought. Even as she made her way through the gardens she could sense the neglect all around her – the lawns uncut and the bushes unpruned from the previous year, weeds busily taking root in the gravelled drive.

Fanny, though, was delighted to see her and immediately shook her hand.

‘You are come at an opportune moment,’ she said, kindly. ‘Judith and I were becoming heartily tired of each other’s company and in desperate need of some lively entertainment.’

‘You will find me sadly lacking in lively conversation, Miss Ferdinand,’ smiled Lydia, taking the proffered seat next to her hostess. ‘I am afraid that I know very little of anything which is likely to be of interest to you. After all, I know none of the neighbours hereabouts, so there can be nothing to gossip about, and you know nothing of my previous friends at all.’

‘Oh, as to that, Miss Barrington, I am well enough acquainted with the local gossip as it is. Hetty, my maid, takes no greater delight than in telling me all the news. But I am convinced that there are some dark secrets to tell about yourself and I am determined to get them out of you before our acquaintance goes much further.’

‘There is nothing of interest about me,’ protested Lydia, blushing very slightly. ‘My character is easily revealed to you, that’s for sure, and I must hang my head in shame that it is a very deficient one. I am sadly unable to apply myself to anything much that is serious. I fear I reveal a rebellious nature at times, particularly when expected to play the demure young lady for too long. I enjoy the outdoor life – I adore to walk, even when the more sensible amongst us would expect to remain indoors. Oh, and I am able to remain on the back of a pony if it is only quiet enough, and does not attempt to move beyond a trot. Apart from that there is very little to tell.’

‘There, I knew we should find something in common. Riding is my passion. I would spend all day in the saddle, were I able, and not even notice missing my meals. Judith, too, was an excellent horsewoman until she fell ill. I have tried to persuade her for ever that a little gentle exercise would do her the world of good but I cannot manage it.’

Lydia shot a glance at the pale young lady by the fire. After her initial welcoming smile she had shown no awareness of Lydia’s presence and seemed total
ly absorbed in the netting
which was occupying her thin hands.

‘But come,’ said Fanny, jumping up. ‘You must be dying to look around the house. Let me take you on a tour of the major rooms. You may enjoy a fine view of your own house from the front apartments, while I am sure you will admire the vista across the grounds at the back.’

They turned into the hall and through an arched doorway into a fair sized library, panelled in oak. Several rows of books, somewhat dusty, and a solid oak table in the centre of the room, apparently serving as a desk, were the main occupants. It smelt strongly of tobacco. It made Lydia’s nose itch. She was struck forcibly by the contrast with Grantham Hall. She could not help but remember the warm splendour of the library there with its red carpet, the sunlight streaming gloriously through the window, and Henry Churchman smiling at her as he strode into the room.

‘It is most pleasant,’ she said, hurriedly, trying hard to find something she could reasonably praise, and trying even harder not to sniff too much. ‘You papa appears to have a fine selection of books.’