Seasons of Love (25 page)

‘How do you do, sir. I'm Harry Perriman. If you're leaving, I'll come with you to the door.’ He did so and shook the parson’s hand as they stood there. ‘Thank you for coming, sir.’

His open countenance, childish dignity and excellent manners only reinforced the good impression his mother had already made.

At Ashdown Park, Daniel was found to be at home, for once. Mr Morpeth had had visions of having to search for him in the cow-byres. He was shown into the estate office and received civilly enough, but his host seemed rather preoccupied. Mr Morpeth was in no mood for soft words and inattention. When his ire was roused, he could be a very lion in defence of what he felt to be right.

‘I have just come from the Dower House, Daniel.’

‘Do you mean you've actually
seen
the woman!’ Daniel asked flippantly, still only half-attending.

Henry bristled with indignation at this flippant way of describing a grieving lady. ‘What do you mean by that, sir?’

Daniel looked at him in surprise. ‘I mean, have you seen her face? My mother tells me she goes heavily veiled, like an actress in a farce.’

‘Of course I've seen her face! She received me inside the house. And she was not wearing a veil.’

‘Then you're a privileged man! She refused to stop here yesterday, even to take refreshments, so no one else has had the chance to see her. And what is more, she refused point-blank to reply to my message concerning the funeral!’

Henry was tired of searching for tactful words. ‘Are you sure Mrs Carnforth was
offered
refreshments, sir?’ he asked bluntly, tackling the first point raised. He was pleased to see Daniel stare at him in surprise.

‘Of course I am! Are you accusing my mother of not knowing the correct way to treat a visitor?’

‘Could we - check that fact? You see, Mrs Carnforth says nothing was offered. The housekeeper would know, surely?’

‘Is this necessary?’ But a dreadful suspicion was beginning to creep into Daniel's mind. Surely, even his mother could not have been . .

‘Yes, my lord, it is necessary!’ Henry Morpeth insisted. ‘If there is some misunderstanding, it is better that it be cleared up at once and justice done. And since Mrs Carnforth has kindly given me permission to undertake the role of mediator between the - the various parties, I intend to do just that.’

Before Mrs Mossop could be sent for, Mr Napperby was announced. He was very much on his dignity, bristling with indignation at the memory of their reception here the previous day.

‘Good morning, sir!’ he declared, without waiting to be addressed by his host. ‘I am glad to see that you
are
available today! Mr Morpeth, your servant.’

Seeing Daniel begin to frown at the way in which the lawyer had addressed him, Mr Morpeth stepped hastily into the breach. ‘I called upon Mrs Carnforth - Mr Charles Carnforth’s widow, that is - this morning, What she had to tell me was - shocking. Therefore, Mr Napperby, I have taken it upon myself to come here and try to clear up the misunderstandings which seem to have arisen.’

‘I have just left her myself. A wonderful woman!’ But she had obviously been weeping and this had roused Samuel Napperby’s sense of chivalry. ‘I would hardly call them misunderstandings, however. It was made very plain to her yesterday that she would not be received in this house. I was there! I heard what the housekeeper said with my own ears.’

‘Housekeeper said!’ Daniel took a pace forward. ‘But surely it was my mother who spoke to her

- who . . . ’

‘We saw only the housekeeper! Jane Mossop. We did not see Mrs Celia Carnforth.’

There was a pregnant silence, before Daniel said stiffly, ‘Then I fear that this is how the misunderstanding arose. The housekeeper is new to her job and no doubt confused the messages.’

But Mr Napperby was having none of that. He saw no reason why poor Jane Mossop should be blamed for her mistress's bad manners. ‘I have known your housekeeper for many years, and have always found her a woman of good sense -
not
a person who is prone to confusing messages!’

Daniel flushed a dull red.

‘In fact,’ went on Mr Napperby obstinately, ‘it is due to Jane Mossop’s excellent work as a caretaker that the interior of the Manor has not deteriorated as much as the exterior.’

‘Oh.’

‘As to yesterday, let us get things quite clear - Jane had been forced to learn a message off by heart, a very impertinent message. I do not scruple to say that, because it’s the simple truth. And she was - I could see that quite clearly - embarrassed at having to deliver it. It was very brief. You were not available, your mother was indisposed, we were to leave the coffin in the library and the Dower House was down the North Drive.’

He saw with satisfaction that his words had struck home. ‘And the last piece of information was quite unnecessary, as Jane well knew, since I have served this estate, man and boy, for more years than I care to remember. I know exactly where the Dower House is situated. Only a stranger to the district would have thought it necessary to tell me that.’ He was strongly tempted to offer his resignation as a final gesture, but perhaps this would be over-hasty.

Henry Morpeth stepped into the breach again. ‘This is all very distressing - but gentlemen, can we not set aside the apportioning of blame and resolve the more pressing matter of the funeral? It will cause a major scandal if it isn’t held from this house. As it would if Mrs Carnforth were kept away from her own husband’s funeral.’

‘Kept away from it!’ Daniel stared at him in shock. ‘Who said she would be kept away from it?’

‘Apparently you did.’

‘I can't - ’ he tried to think what he had written in the note. ‘That was never my intention, I assure you.’ He was convinced now that his mother had grossly insulted the widow and he felt quite sick at the thought. It was one thing to resent the woman, quite another to treat her in this cavalier fashion. ‘I shall arrange matters myself from now on. Whatever that woman's character, she
was
his wife, after all!’

‘Her character, sir, is that of a lady! In the finest sense of the word,’ stated Mr Napperby, bristling anew. ‘And what is more, I take great exception to your remark. I saw with my own eyes her devotion to your cousin, for I was with her as she nursed him during the final few days. And I think I can safely say that I am not foolish enough to be taken in by false displays of affection!’

Daniel was looking white and shocked to the gills, and so he should, thought Mr Napperby. He didn’t allow his host time to speak, however, but continued without a pause, determined to have his say in full. ‘Mrs Carnforth insists on attending the interment - with the boy. And I fully support her wishes. She was devoted to her husband and wishes to see him to his final resting place.’

‘Oh. But it isn’t customary for a woman to attend. My own mother has no plans to be present at the graveside!’

Mr Napperby's expression was so hostile, so full of ire, that Henry Morpeth rushed in again.

‘But it would be no problem to allow the widow to attend, would it, my lord?’

‘No, of course not! Not if she so wishes.’

‘I can lend her my own carriage and accompany her,’ offered Mr Napperby, afraid of further snubs. ‘But I must tell you now I will countenance no public insults to the lady. This must all be done properly and with due decorum.'

Shame made Daniel flush again. ‘There is no need to say that. She will, of course, ride in the first carriage, with me.’

‘And afterwards?’ demanded Mr Napperby, determined to have every last detail clear.

‘Afterwards she will naturally be invited to return here with the other mourners and partake of refreshments.’

Mr Napperby inclined his head, his eyes glittering with triumph. ‘And, as she is a beneficiary, she must also be present with the rest of the family at the reading of the will.’

‘Of course. And if she wishes to move to the house for the time being, we shall be pleased to receive her.’

‘I think she will be better in her own home, among those who truly care for her. Even though that home is in no fit state for a lady to live in.’

‘The Dower House hadn’t been made ready for her?’

‘No, sir. Not a thing had been done.’

Silence hung heavily around them for a moment, then Daniel said, ‘There must have been a misunderstanding. I thought I’d given orders to – ‘I shall take my mother to call upon Mrs Carnforth this very afternoon.’

His mother would go with him and be civil, if he had to drag her there by force! How
could
she have behaved like that and landed him in this embarrassing predicament? Had she run mad in her old age?

After that, the funeral arrangements were quickly settled - subject to the widow’s agreement, Mr Napperby insisted, with a challenging look in his eyes - and a guest list was drawn up.

Mrs Carnforth's elaborate flights of fancy as regards staging the funeral were mentioned by the parson and dismissed out of hand by his lordship.

On the way out, however, Mr Napperby turned round and stared Daniel in the eye as he reiterated, ‘I have your word, sir, that the widow will be treated with all courtesy.’

‘You have my solemn word.’

After he had watched the two men leave, Daniel turned round and strode up the stairs to his mother's room, fury sizzling through him.

The formal visit of Daniel and his mother to the Dower House did indeed take place that afternoon, but only after a fit of hysterics.

‘You can either,’ repeated Daniel, ‘make the visit with me today or leave immediately for Bath.

It’s as simple as that.’

‘You cannot mean that! I am your mother.’

‘I do, indeed, mean it. Your discourtesy to the widow has shown us in a very bad light and I’m deeply ashamed of what has happened. We shall now make every atonement possible to the lady.’

‘But she is
not
a lady! That is the whole point.’

‘She is Cousin Charles's widow, and as such will be treated with every courtesy, lady or not.’

‘You cannot expect me to associate with a - a wicked creature.’

‘You don’t know anything about her nature. Mr Napperby assures me she was genuinely devoted to our cousin.’

‘But - ’

‘You need do nothing that you do not wish to do, mother. As I said, I shall be happy to place a carriage at your disposal for your return to Bath. Within the hour, shall we say?’

He was all cold dignity, reminding her so much of his father that fresh tears flowed. She sobbed a little, then gave in. She had no intention of missing this funeral. It would look bad if she wasn’t present and her dear friends in Bath would want to know all about
that woman.

The two of them were received at the Dower House by a heavily-veiled Helen, who didn’t wish them to see her reddened eyes.

Her son stood protectively by her side, scowling at them the whole time. He knew these were the people who had upset and insulted his mother. Briggs had explained it all to him, for no one else would.

A stilted conversation followed. Both ladies were almost monosyllabic in their responses to each other's polite questions, and Daniel, who was not a man famed for his conversational skills, found the visit a nightmare. He explained the arrangements for the funeral, asked if they met with Mrs Carnforth's approval and agreed to change some details at her request. He then went through the guest list drawn up by Mr Napperby and Mr Morpeth and gave her a copy.

His mother breathed deeply while arrangements were discussed, and reflected upon ingratitude, which was indeed sharper than a serpent’s tooth, or whatever it was the Bible said. She would look that up the instant she got home, see if the good book could offer her any consolation for this embarrassment.

And
that woman
looked exactly like a blowsy actress to her. Nothing would convince her otherwise.

After a very correct twenty minutes, the visitors stood up.

As they were leaving, Daniel looked across the room at Harry, wondering if he should say something to the lad, who was, whether he wished it or not, now his ward. However, he encountered a look of such hostility that he muttered something under his breath and left.

Celia harangued her son all the way home on the folly of giving in to vulgar persons. She went on to decry the ridiculous affectation of women who wore such heavy mourning inside the house -

‘too theatrical for words’ - especially when everyone knew that the woman had only married poor Charles for his money!

‘You are not to say that again, Mother!’

‘But
everyone
knows it's true.’

‘True or not, I should be obliged if you would refrain from repeating it in future.’

A moment later she was off on another tack. ‘And one can only wonder what she's hiding under that veil. She's probably pock-marked, or - or raddled from wearing too much paint upon her face.’

‘Mother!’

She flounced in her seat and hunched her shoulder at him, but said nothing more.

Her son spent the rest of the day out riding.

Formalities, and therefore county society, being satisfied, the funeral was arranged for three days later and the coffin was taken in state to lie in the village church, the compromise agreed upon.

Because she still wept at the slightest thing, Helen continued to wear the heavy veils she would normally have despised. She couldn’t think what was wrong with her lately, but admitted to herself that she was exhausted and promised herself a good, long rest when all the ceremonial was over.

On the sad day, Helen and her son rode to the church in the first carriage with the heir, as was proper. Celia Carnforth, trailing black lace and crepe, stayed at the house.

The boy seems a surly cub, thought Daniel, for again Harry had done nothing but scowl at his new guardian. By the time they arrived at the graveyard, he had to admit that at least Harry was attentive to his mother and spoke like a gentleman's son. No doubt that was due to his stepfather's influence.

Her son’s scowls, as Helen well knew, were Harry's defence against the dreadful crime of weeping like a baby for the only father he’d ever known. So she didn’t reprimand him, just touched his hand from time to time, and put her arm round his shoulders for a minute when they got out of the carriage at the church.