Fourpenny Flyer (31 page)

And how impressive ‘there' was. The Easter house in Bury was a fine building, but this one in Bedford Square was like a palace, with its fluted columns and that imposing pediment and rows and rows of tall windows facing the public gardens. It made Harriet feel gauche and awkward simply to step inside. There were so many rooms and all of them sumptuously carpeted and furnished in the latest style and warmed by great coal fires, and so many servants to carry their luggage and bring them hot water and warm towels and scented soap so that they could wash after their journey, and pervading everything the most mouthwatering smell of roast beef and roast potatoes drifting up from the kitchens. She was overwhelmed by it.

‘I had not realized such houses existed,' she whispered
to John when she had washed and tidied, and had crept downstairs to tiptoe shyly into the front parlour where he was waiting for her. ‘Is our house to be as big as this? I do hope not.'

‘Our house,' he said, ‘is modest and proper, just like us.' He couldn't wait for her to see it. Their own home. Their very own home. ‘The carriage is ordered for ten o'clock tomorrow morning, as soon as I get back from the stamping.'

‘But tomorrow is Christmas Eve.'

‘Yes,' he said happily.

‘Do you work on Christmas Eve?'

‘I work virtually every day of the year,' he said proudly, ‘since papers are printed virtually every day of the year. Our honeymoon week will be the longest I have stayed away from work since I first began and that was more than ten years ago, when I was thirteen. Oh yes, I work every day of the year.'

‘But not on Sundays,' she said. ‘You are in Rattlesden on Sundays. You do not work then.'

‘That is because I come to Rattlesden to see you, my love. If I were in London on Sundays I should work then.'

‘Ah, there you are!' Nan said, brisking into the room. ‘Are you settled in, my dear? Good! Dinner will be served in three minutes.'

It will be a very different sort of life here in this city, Harriet thought, as she followed her dear John to the dining room. I do hope he doesn't really mean he'll be working all hours the way he says.

But at least he took time away from his office to drive her to see her future home the next afternoon. And she was delighted with it, for Fitzroy Square was considerably smaller and neater than the great wooded park that faced Nan Easter's palace, and the house was considerably more homely. It stood in the centre of a long, straight, quiet terrace, and was stuccoed a pleasant creamy-white like all the others, three neat storeys high with its roof discreetly hidden behind a parapet, and its front door unobstrusive below a quiet semicircular fanlight that exactly matched the curves of the two venetian windows alongside it. A
house that would simply contain them, she thought, without wanting to impress anybody. He had made a good choice, her dear John.

Even so it was bigger than anything she'd ever been used to. She inspected the basement kitchen and the housekeeper's parlour and the butler's pantry, and walked up the beautiful oak staircase, and admired the drawing room with its decorated ceiling and the dining room with its marble fireplace, and trembled in the master bedroom that overlooked the square and was awed because the dressing room attached to it was bigger than her parents' parlour.

‘What do 'ee think?' John asked.

‘I think it is beautiful,' she said. ‘How well this room would look with red curtains and a red counterpane.' At present the walls were white and white walls reminded her of the cold little cell she'd slept in at Bury.

‘When Christmas is over,' he promised, ‘we will hire a housekeeper and have the decorators in. You shall have your red room as soon as it can be arranged.'

‘Our red room,' she corrected rapturously.

‘Our red room,' he agreed, and kissed her to prove it.

In the meantime there were Christmas celebrations to enjoy. And they started as soon as she and John got back to Bedford Square. That evening they all went to the play with a gentleman called Mr Brougham who seemed to know John and Billy uncommon well and said he was charmed to make her acquaintance. And the next morning they were up early to go to church and when they got back the household was busy with arrivals, as the family and their friends gathered for Christmas dinner.

Miss Pettie was the first to arrive, flushed and dishevelled with Jane fussily attentive. She had no sooner been settled when Billy came home in the Honeywood carriage with Matilda, who was sporting a magnificent red coat, heavily trimmed in thick dark fur with a large fur bonnet on her head and an equally large fur muff laid across her lap like an otter. Her arrival caused a stir, as she'd fully intended it should because if she was going to share a Christmas party with that low-born Harriet Sowerby she meant to be the cynosure of all eyes there.

And then just before the meal was due to be served, and it was already quite dark, the two Miss Callbecks drove quietly up to the door and James arrived in a flyer and was greeted with much excitement by his family. By the time they were all finally seated there was so much rapid talk about the table that it made Harriet's head spin to hear it.

Nan and John described the new house in Fitzroy Square while Billy carved the goose and the vegetables were being passed and served, and then Matilda made it her business to entertain them all with a witty tale about how slow and infuriating the builders were being over
her
house in Torrington Square and, not to be outdone, Miss Pettie, now flushed with port wine, embarked upon a lurid story about a riot in Gedding where a threshing machine and a mole plough had been ‘smashed to fragments, my dears, to positive fragments', and four rioters had had their heads broken ‘like eggs'. And Annie said it was all quite true and perfectly dreadful but what else could they do, poor things?

‘Smashing machines won't make work for 'em, surely?' Matilda said, tossing her curls at Billy.

‘According to their logic it will, Miss Honeywood,' James explained. ‘Without a machine, you see, threshing requires a deal of labour. And work is precisely what these men lack.'

‘They are so poor, Matilda, that they starve,' Annie said, defending her husband's parishioners stoutly. ‘I cannot see what is to become of them. Last year's harvest was so bad that the farmers in Rattlesden were laying off labourers even before it was over. We give out loaves and soup of a Friday evening and for some it is the only dependable meal they have all week long.'

‘Do they imagine that the farmer won't repair his machine, foolish creatures that they are?' Matilda said. ‘They cannot un-invent 'em, though I daresay they'd like to. The servant class are all the same. They want everything done for 'em.' She was parroting her father's views as she ususally did, and without much thought, flirting her grey eyes at Billy.

‘How if I were to tell 'ee that I was a servant once?' Nan Easter said.

It would have been hard to tell which of her two future
daughters-in-law was the more surprised.

‘I'd not believe it,' Matilda said, her eyes like saucers. A servant? Not the great Nan Easter, surely.

Her discomfiture was so obvious that Nan laughed out loud at her. ‘'Tis true,' she said. ‘I started work as a scullery maid when I was nine years old. There en't a thing goes on below stairs what I don't know about from personal experience.'

What an extraordinary woman she is, Harriet thought, lost in admiration at such a revelation, to have come so far and from so very little.

‘Why then you must have been an uncommon servant, that's all I can say,' Matilda said, recovering a little, and trying a hesitant and placatory smile. ‘A most uncommon servant.'

‘Aye,' Billy said, grinning at his mother, ‘so she was. And an uncommon mother. And an uncommon boss.'

‘I think so too, Nanna,' little Jimmy said, gazing at his grandmother earnestly with his spoon halfway to his mouth.

‘What do 'ee think too, lambkin?' Nan said.

‘That you are an uncommon Nanna.'

‘Quite right,' Nan approved. ‘Have some more goose.'

After the meal they all retired to the drawing room together since this seemed to be the established custom, and a wooden box full of bright parcels was carried into the room by the two grooms, who were then released to their own Christmas dinner below stairs. And the ceremony of the presents began, with Jimmy and Beau acting as postmen, with a little encouragement from their mother.

Harriet had never been given a Christmas present in her life, so this was a revelation. There were gifts for everybody. ‘She must have spent a fortune,' she whispered to John, who was sitting beside her on one of the four sofas.

‘She always does,' he whispered back. ‘She loves it. Christmas wouldn't be Christmas if she didn't give us all a present.'

And Harriet's was a gold cross set with seed pearls.
‘Which would look well with a wedding dress, my dear, don't 'ee think?'

‘I don't know how to thank you,' Harriet said, feeling spoilt and honoured. What an amazing family this was! And how freely they spent their money.

‘Now then, Beau,' Nan said to her toddling grandson, ‘this is for Matilda. Carry it carefully.'

And it was another cross, this time set with square-cut amethysts which were considerably more expensive than seed pearls and very fashionable. It was a fitting gift for the modish Miss Honeywood, and as it made a perfect foil for the lilac gown she was wearing, she insisted that Billy fasten it about her neck immediately, which he did with lingering attention.

Uncommon clever, John thought, for his mother had given each girl exactly the right sort of jewel to fit her nature.

‘You are
so
generous Mrs Easter,' Matilda said, kissing Nan. ‘'Tis the prettiest cross I ever saw. I shall wear it on my honeymoon, which is like to prove a deal longer than a month. Oh yes, indeed, a great deal longer. Papa has promised to send us upon a tour of the Continent.'

It was said with splendidly casual aplomb and of course it had an immediate and dramatic effect, just as she'd intended it to.

‘But my dear!' Miss Pettie said, clutching both sets of curls with amazement. ‘How thrilling!'

And Thomasina asked, ‘How long will you be away?'

And Evelina, ‘Where will you go?'

And Billy tried to reassure his mother that he wouldn't go anywhere unless he could be spared.

‘Go and enjoy it,' Nan said, grinning at him. ‘You'll not get another such chance.'

So Matilda was able to tell them all about it, which she did in happy detail. ‘We shall be away until November,' she said, ‘for we mean to visit France, and there is a deal to see in France, Paris and Versailles of course, and the antiquities of the south, and then we shall travel through Switzerland to see the mountains, which are supposed to be sublime, and then on into Italy to see Rome and Turin,
and then on to Venice, I believe, by way of Milan, Bergamo, Brescia, Verona –' checking them off on her fingers – ‘and Vicenza, to see the works of Palladio, which Papa says we must not miss, and Florence, if we have time. Oh 'twill be a wondrous tour.'

John was rather annoyed by her display. She is trying to put our noses out of joint with all this, he thought, glancing at Harriet, and Billy should stop her. But Billy was looking like a cat that had stolen the cream and everybody else except his mother was cooing and exclaiming with wonder. And Harriet looked stunned. Her lips were parted and her eyes quite round, like they'd been when Mama told them all she'd started off as a servant. While all attention was focused on Matilda, he reached for her hand and held it to comfort her. But news of such a splendid honeymoon had made him feel that he ought to have planned something similar and the feeling intensified when Evelina turned towards him and asked where he and Harriet were going on their wedding trip.

‘Ah well, Cousin Evelina,' he said stiffly. ‘As to that, 'tis a secret, so it is.' And he was annoyed to feel himself blushing.

‘'Twill be romantic, I'm sure, wherever it is,' Miss Pettie said, trying to be helpful. And failing, for he blushed more than ever.

‘And what have we here?' Nan said, plunging her arm into the box to retrieve another present, and rescue them. ‘Why I do believe 'tis a present for you, Beau. Open it carefully, lambkin. Let Mama untie the string.'

After the presents had all been distributed, and Pollyanna had taken the boys off to bed, the card tables were set up and the company discreetly divided, James and Annie and John and Harriet at one table, Nan and Miss Pettie at a second, and the two aunts with Billy and Matilda at the third. And so the rest of the evening passed pleasantly enough, with plentiful supplies of port wine and brandy.

By the time the clock struck midnight they were all in a very cheerful mood and made their way up Nan's splendid staircase stumbling together, Miss Pettie and the two Miss
Callbecks giggling and Billy and Matilda amorously arm in arm. Then there was considerable noise and activity as servants were rung for and warming pans were removed from beds and fires were dampened and clothes folded away.

Harriet was rather embarrassed to be the recipient of so much attention and sent her particular maid away as soon as she'd been helped out of her gown, but that turned out to be a foolish decision, for the unaccustomed wine had made her extremely thirsty and she'd forgotten to ask for any drinking water. She knew that Miss Pettie was in the room at the end of the landing, so she picked up her carafe and crept out of her firelit room into the darkness to tiptoe down and ask her whether she would be kind enough to let her have a glassful.

And there was a lighted candle approaching her, held by a man's hand, a strong hand, covered in fine fair hairs. She could see them quite plainly from where she stood. she shrank back into her doorway at once, but she went on watching, fascinated and fearful, wanting to see who it was and where he was going. And as her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness she recognized that it was Billy and that he was walking boldly into Matilda's bedroom. And Matilda's plump white arms came snaking out of the door and wound themselves around his neck and drew him into the room. And Matilda's voice was murmuring endearments and the door was being locked behind them. Locked!