The Dead Queen's Garden (18 page)

T
HERE
WAS
TO
be no respite for Charlotte after the meal. Today she was clearly doomed to be the recipient of intimate exchanges, but as it was Sibella Armstrong who came to sit timidly beside her with a confiding air, it would be interesting, she concluded, rather than tedious.

In spite of the usual gargantuan breakfast that was served every morning at the manor and the promise of another, almost certainly large meal at Brambrook Abbey during the coming afternoon, Lily had insisted upon providing her household with more sustenance at midday. Knowing the impossibility of persuading Lily that she was not hungry, Charlotte nibbled at a slice of bread and butter and, refusing Barnard’s offer of a glass of wine, a brandy to keep out the cold, a tankard of ale (this last suggestion accompanied by a hearty laugh), she allowed Lily to pour her a cup of tea instead.

‘Did you hear the news, by the way, Char?’ Lily suddenly asked when her guests were all supplied with food and drink. ‘Young Oz mentioned to Barnard that Lady Granville’s companion, that rather tiresome Miss Cole, has unaccountably taken it into her head to hand in her notice and take herself off to some friend’s house somewhere in London.’

‘What’s that?’ Charlotte raised her head in surprise and carefully put down her cup of tea. ‘How extraordinary! I was under the impression that Miss Cole had been a permanent fixture in Lady Granville’s household for many years, that in fact she is some kind of distant relative of her ladyship? What in the world can have possessed her to take such an unexpected course? Do you suppose there’s been some kind of quarrel and that Lady Granville might rather have dismissed her companion?’

‘I believe not,’ Barnard took up the story, reaching for a large slab of Christmas cake to sustain him for another hour or two. ‘Young Oz was most definite. He told me that his mother was in a fine taking late last evening when she discovered that Miss Cole had packed up her bags and taken herself off without so much as a by your leave. Apparently, her ladyship was not disturbed when her companion failed to appear at dinner, because Miss Cole had complained of some trifling indisposition – which was quite a frequent occurrence, Oz remarked.’

‘Indeed,’ burst in Lily. ‘It turns out that Miss Cole left a short, ungracious note to her ladyship, and will send for her trunk as soon as her circumstances allow.’ Lily shook her head, her round pink face reflecting excitement mingled with sympathy. ‘Imagine! According to her note, Miss Cole has received an extremely
advantageous
offer of a position with a former employer who now resides just outside Paris. The wretched woman means to stay in London for a day or so and then journey across the channel. I believe Miss Cole has been in her ladyship’s service for getting on for eleven or twelve years. What shocking ingratitude to leave so precipitately, particularly as her ladyship’s personal maid – well,’ Lily spoke in a suitably hushed voice and glanced rather theatrically round the room with a shiver, ‘we all know what happened to her, do we not? This means that poor Lady Granville is left without a familiar attendant.’

Charlotte made sympathetic noises and returned to her cup of tea, wondering what it could all mean. No explanation sprang to mind however, apart from the ludicrous fancies that had occupied her earlier, so she made her apologies. With a mischievous nod to Barnard, she whisked the last piece of Christmas cake from under his nose and put it on her plate to take it up to her room on the pretext of resting before the proposed birthday festivities.

She still had some silver tissue paper left over from wrapping her Christmas presents so she made a neat parcel of the pocket knife for Oz. Tying an elegant bow in the half-yard of blue silk ribbon from her sewing box, she placed the birthday present on a small table, beside her gloves. She added the small kid reticule that contained a lace handkerchief, her embroidery scissors, needle-case,
and some sewing silk, along with some pins for use in emergency repairs, so that there was no possibility of forgetting it, then she curled up in the fireside chair with her present from Barnard open on her lap.

‘It’s the latest edition of Bradshaw,’ Barnard had told her, laughing at her puzzled expression as she surveyed the book she had just unwrapped. ‘Railway timetables, Char, so you can plan your journeys when you feel the need to run away from us now and then!’

Dear Barnard, she smiled as she flicked through the printed pages. I could never hurt his feelings by running away; he knows that’s not going to happen, even though…. She bit her lip and her eyes darkened at the knowledge of the undoubted sorrow that waited just around the corner. When Elaine Knightley finally took her leave of her beloved husband and home, Charlotte would not be the only friend to feel bereft; Elaine, quiet and gentle as she was, held a special place in the hearts of gentry and villagers alike.

‘I can’t bear to think…’ Charlotte was unaware that she spoke aloud but a timid tapping at the door brought a welcome interruption to her darkling thoughts. Sibella Armstrong, dressed in readiness for the impending jollification, hovered there, poised for flight.

‘Sibella?’ Charlotte brushed a hand across her tear-stained cheeks, and stood aside to let her visitor enter. ‘Do come in, you’re just in time to distract me from some unhappy thoughts.’

Another tap at the door heralded a maid with a tray of tea. ‘Mr Hoxton had Cook prepare this for you, Miss Char. He said it was a bitter cold day and he thought a young lady from foreign parts, where the weather’s always hot, might feel a chill.’ She set the tray down on the table beside Charlotte’s gloves and Oz’s present, and looked up at the two girls. ‘I’ve brought tea for Miss Armstrong too,’ she said, with a nod to the second teapot and cup on the tray. ‘I saw you come in here, miss; will you take tea together?’ The small flurry – thanking the maid, settling Sibella in a comfortable chair, pouring the tea – broke the ice and they both drank eagerly, warming their hands on the delicate, flower-patterned china of Lily’s second-best tea set. Charlotte dismissed her visitor’s polite
concern regarding those miserable thoughts and the accompanying tears, and waited in a comfortable silence, wondering what had brought Sibella to her room once more.

‘I am in a quandary, Mrs… er, Charlotte,’ began the other. ‘You have been so kind, I thought you might help me decide what to do.’

At Charlotte’s eager assurance, Sibella continued. ‘My
brother-in
-law, Dr Chant, suggests I accompany him to London when he leaves Hampshire in a day or two. He has numerous acquaintances in the capital and he tells me he is confident of securing a suitable post for me.’

‘And?’ prompted Charlotte. ‘Forgive me, Sibella, but I’ve formed the distinct impression that you hold no warm regard for Dr Chant, nor he for you. Do you really wish to be beholden to him?’

‘Ah, you do understand.’ Sibella turned eagerly to her hostess, ‘and you are quite correct, I’ve never liked him and I know he has decided views on the subject of poor relations, so I can’t understand why he has come forward with this offer.’

‘I can guess,’ Charlotte gave a slight smile. ‘I spotted the doctor closeted with my brother-in-law and knowing Barnard as I do, I can imagine that he said something rather fierce about family obligations. I don’t mean,’ she added hastily, ‘that Barnard and Lily want you to go. By no means, in fact I’m persuaded Lily would like you to remain at the manor until her little Algy is old enough to require a governess!’ She smiled. ‘That being rather impractical however, I know that they really want you to stay here for as long as you wish and certainly until you have somewhere comfortable to go, among congenial people.’

Sibella started to protest but Charlotte interrupted, ‘It would be a kindness to them,’ she said soberly. ‘I know they both feel it dreadfully that Mrs Chant was taken ill after her visit to this house, and yes – they realize that no possible fault can be laid at their door – but they feel it nonetheless. That being the case, may I join with them in entreating you to prolong your visit? It must be preferable than having to be forced to express gratitude to a man you cannot like.’ She hesitated for a moment, then rushed on, ‘I … it is a trifle premature to mention this,’ she said, glancing at the other girl. ‘I don’t know if you recall what I said at breakfast? That Miss
Nightingale has offered me a post in connection with her proposed new nursing order? Well, as I told Barnard and Lily, I have no intention of accepting her offer but I’ve not yet had the opportunity to reply and I wondered how you would look upon the idea of allowing me to put your name forward for the position? No,’ she interrupted Sibella’s exclamation, ‘hear me out before you dismiss it out of hand. The position does not involve any nursing; it is an administrative post, which requires a clear head, a practical turn of mind, and a good deal of common sense. All three of these qualities are surely yours, after years as a governess.’

She picked up her cup and hesitated. ‘Suppose you give the notion due consideration? I shan’t press you for an answer and Miss Nightingale will surely not be offended if I delay my answer until tomorrow morning, but you must be aware of the advantages inherent in the scheme. For instance, there has been no mention of the kind of remuneration that the position incurs but it must be more generous than that of a governess, and accommodation would be included. You would live at Miss Nightingale’s
headquarters
, which would surely be more agreeable than being shut away in a governess’s forlorn attic.’

She smiled at Sibella, who was looking stunned. ‘For now though, won’t you take a holiday from care? My brother and sister are so anxious that you should have a real rest and an opportunity to recover from your ordeal.’

‘You – and they – are too kind,’ Sibella answered in a whisper. ‘I should indeed like to stay here for a short time. I shall decline Dr Chant’s offer, with great relief.’ She finished her tea and nibbled absently on a piece of Cook’s celebrated shortbread, then she looked at Charlotte.

‘I should like to speak freely, if I may?’ At Charlotte’s nod, and assurance that any confidences would go no further, Sibella went on, ‘You must have noticed that although I am shocked at my sister’s untimely death, I am not stricken with grief. This must have made you wonder about us, about our relationship. I explained that we had not been intimate for many years and in fact we have met only a handful of times since – since our brother’s disgrace.

‘Verena was brought up to be as shallow and self-centred as her
godmother who thought only of turning my little sister into a society belle and making a brilliant marriage, so, sad to say, I found her completely heartless. We met for the first time in years at her wedding and discovered that we had nothing in common. The invitation caught up with me when I was visiting London with one of my pupils and my employer was gracious enough to allow me to attend the celebrations.’

She frowned at her hands. ‘Dr Chant and I did not take to each other on the occasion of our introduction, and our subsequent encounters, few as they have been, have confirmed us in our mutual dislike. I find him to be pompous and shallow, while he believed me to be waiting only for an opportunity to demand financial support from him, through my sister. I should like to make it clear to you, Charlotte, that I have never done so.’

Charlotte nodded; she could understand now why she had been attracted to Sibella from the first. They were both stiff-necked and proud, determined to make their own way in the world. I wonder whether she would have used the same methods, Charlotte mused, picturing her perilous flight across India during the late Mutiny, when she had snatched at whatever means of survival that came to hand, including theft and deception. Sneaking a look at the other young woman’s firmly closed mouth and determined chin, as well as her steady blue eyes, Charlotte formed the opinion that Sibella was another of the same ilk, although her upbringing in a northern vicarage might possibly have been a hindrance when it came to theft and deception.

‘On the few occasions when I chanced to be in London,’ Sibella continued, ‘I took care to send word to my sister. We were all that was left of the family now, since Edward was known to have died in Australia, and I thought we should remain in touch. It never answered though. Verena was always busy about some society ball or dinner and I was never easy at such affairs and Dr Chant continued to view me with suspicion, which was most uncomfortable.’

‘What made you and your sister decide to visit Winchester for a holiday?’ Charlotte thought it was time to turn the conversation towards recent events. ‘I believe you said you had never been here before?’

‘No,’ came the low-voiced reply. ‘I arrived in London last month with my latest pupil, a very sickly child, on our way to take the waters at Tunbridge Wells, when sadly the child took a turn for the worse and died very suddenly. Mercifully, his parents were at his side, but although he had not been expected to live for many years, it was still distressing. My employers paid me generously and left town but I was soon ill myself, with a feverish complaint. I had already notified Verena of my whereabouts so when she discovered my predicament she kindly said that as soon as I was well enough to travel, she would whisk me away for a few days’ convalescence. She told me Winchester sprang to mind because some chance acquaintance of hers had mentioned a recent visit and recommended the excellent lodgings.’

The low, pretty voice faltered as Sibella shivered. ‘My sister was actually very kind, sitting with me, holding my hand and tending to my wants, as well as paying generously for my medical care. What I did not at first appreciate was that I had been delirious for a night or so and that in that condition, I let slip a secret – a family secret.’

She buried her face in her hands then carried on, ‘Verena made no mention of this until we were safely ensconced in the
guest-house
in Winchester and I was fully recovered, although still a little languid. Then one evening, a day or so before Mrs Richmond invited us to the christening, she laughed and told me what she had learned. She said that it was all very delicious and that she had never imagined the staid Armstrongs might harbour such secrets.’