The Old House at Railes: A heartwarming rags to riches Victorian family saga

by Mary E. Pearce

  ‘Oh, George, he’s quite beautiful!’

  ‘Is he?’ George said, in a husky voice.

  ‘You know perfectly well he is.’

  ‘Well, he is quite a fine-looking lad, I agree. And he has a kindly nature, too.’

  ‘To think you have kept him hid all this time. How very sly and secretive you’ve been. I never had any suspicion at all.’ She looked at him with arch mockery. ‘ “Uncle” Winter,’ she said with a laugh. ‘I think from now on I shall call you Pope George.’ Then, after a while, she said: ‘He must come and live with us, of course.’

  ‘Good God! Are you serious?’

  ‘Yes, of course. But why do you look so doubtful? Do you think the Jefferys would object?’

  ‘No, I’m sure they will not. They have been very good to the boy, but they are no longer young, and I’ve no doubt they will be glad to be relieved of the responsibility. The problem lies in the fact that the boy bears a resemblance to me. If we have him at Chacelands, it is bound to cause talk.’

  ‘Yes, it will, most certainly.’

  ‘Won’t you find that embarrassing?’

  ‘Not in the slightest,’ Ginny said. ‘You will find it embarrassing and I shall enjoy watching it. But the most important thing is that you ought to have your son with you, seeing he’s the only one you’ve got. And surely you are proud of him?’

  ‘Of the boy, yes. Very proud. But of the liaison that gave him being … well, my feelings there are quite the reverse.’

  ‘Yes, and so they should be, indeed. It is only right and proper that you should feel guilty and ashamed, and you’ll have to be very kind and indulgent to me, for some years to come, if you are ever to atone for it.’

  ‘Are you never serious?’

  ‘You would prefer me in tears, I suppose, asking how you could have deceived me so. Well, that is not what I feel. Anyway, just look at that boy! How could I, or anyone else, wish that he had never been born?’

  ‘You are being very good about it.’

  ‘Yes, on the whole, I think I am.’

  ‘Indeed, I would go so far as to say that you seem to be enjoying the situation.’

  ‘Yes. You have succeeded in surprising me and I didn’t think that was possible. You are not nearly so staid as I thought. Nor so tiresomely virtuous.’

  Sitting together in the Denbigh, husband and wife regarded each other. Ginny had removed her veil and was studying him with a bright-eyed stare, attending to him with an interest she had not shown for years. George, for his own part, though he still questioned her complaisance, and doubted the propriety of it, could not resist the tide of warmth that so pleasurably flooded his veins in response to this change in her. With a cautious glance around him, to make sure they were not overheard, he spoke to her in a low voice.

  ‘Must I, then, be unfaithful to you, to renew your interest at intervals?’

  ‘Oh, dear me, no! Certainly not! It is my turn to be unfaithful next. That, surely, is only fair.’

  ‘Ginny, I wish you would not joke about such things.’

  ‘There! Now you’re all solemn again. But why should it be so different for me to do as you have done?’

  ‘Because I love you so very much that if such a thing were ever to happen, it would be more than I could bear.’

  ‘Well, don’t be upset. You needn’t worry. I would keep it a secret, I promise you.’ Still teasing, but smiling, too, she laid a hand upon his knee. ‘Surely,’ she said, softly, ‘loving me is not such a very terrible thing, is it?’

  ‘Sometimes it is, most certainly. Whenever you flout me and say hurtful things … it is terrible enough.’

  ‘And at other times?’ Ginny asked, with a beguiling tilt of her chin. ‘How is it then?’

  ‘At other times it is ‒ tolerable.’

  Ginny laughed. She liked her husband in this new mood. And who would have dreamt, this afternoon, that two hours later he and she would be sitting together so intimately, flirting with one another like this? After thirteen years of marriage, too! It really was quite absurd.

  ‘That reminds me of something,’ she said. ‘What were you going to say to me when we were quarrelling earlier, and you were scolding me about Martin? You implied there was something I didn’t know and didn’t have the sense to see. Those were your words, I believe, and I would like to know what you meant.’

  ‘It was nothing,’ George said. ‘I was in a temper, as you said at the time.’

  ‘It’s no good being evasive, George, for I’ll get it out of you in the end. You may be quite sure of that. However, just for the present I’ll leave well alone. We have more important things on hand. I think now we should take Anthony home to his grandparents and discuss the boy’s future with them. It’s high time he was given his rightful place in your home. It must be settled without more ado.’

  During the following week, however, refusing to wait while ‘arrangements’ were made, she was seeing the boy every day and taking him with her wherever she went.

  ‘This is Anthony, my adopted son,’ she said, introducing him at Railes. ‘As it is quite clear by now that I cannot have children myself, we are adopting him, George and I, and he will soon be living with us. Anthony, this is your aunt Katharine, and this is your cousin Susannah. Say how do you do to them and sit on that stool where they can see you.’

  She enjoyed the stir her announcement caused and she sat for a while in complete silence, watching and listening carefully while her sister and her niece spoke to the boy and did their best to hide their surprise. As such silence was foreign to her, she very quickly grew tired of it and suggested that Susannah should take Anthony for a walk, to meet Dick coming home from school. The two children being out of the way, she immediately fixed her sister with a mischievous, laughing stare.

  ‘Well, and what do you think of him?’

  ‘Why,’ Katharine said, cautiously, ‘he is a very fine-looking boy and, allowing for youthful shyness, has the makings of good manners, I think.’

  ‘Is that all you have to say?’

  ‘Well, naturally I am wondering where he’s come from, if that’s what you mean.’

  ‘Surely you, as a wife and mother, must know the answer to that, my dear Kate, for where do children ever come from, whether born in wedlock or not? And if you are thinking he looks like George, why, then, perdee, and so he does. And with very good reason, I assure you.’ Then, as her sister stayed silent, she said: ‘Poor Kate, are you scandalized?’

  ‘I don’t know if I am or not. It is quite certain, I suppose?’

  ‘Quite certain. Cross my heart. George has confessed everything and spoken suitable words of shame. So now you see, my dear sister, that you are not the only wronged wife in the family. But there’s no need to look at me like that. I am not in the least upset. On the contrary, I think it’s quite the drollest thing that has happened in years, and I fully intend to squeeze every ounce of enjoyment from it. I also intend to exact my revenge, for I shall tease George without mercy, and never again, for the rest of our lives, will he be allowed to scold or upbraid me for my conduct.’

  Martin was not at home that day, but was introduced to Anthony on Ginny’s next visit, the following week. By that time he had already heard about the boy, first from Susannah, then from Kate, and Ginny was thus robbed of the pleasure of witnessing his initial surprise.

  ‘That is half the fun, you know, ‒ watching the way people respond when I take Anthony anywhere. But you have cheated me out of that, so instead you must tell me what you thought and felt when you heard. Aren’t you indignant on my behalf, knowing that George has been unfaithful to me?’

  ‘No, why should I be,’ Martin said, ‘when plainly you’re not indignant yourself?’

  ‘That has got nothing to do with it. It would still have been pleasant to feel that there was some gallantry left in the world, and I can’t help thinking that if you had ever felt any real tenderness for me, you would be wanting to knock George down.’

  �
�Gallantry, as you well know, was never one of my virtues.’

  ‘At least you will perhaps allow that I am behaving very well, being so kind to George’s son and having him to live with us?’

  ‘Yes. I think you are being most sensible.’

  ‘You approve, then, it seems.’

  ‘Yes, I do. It will give you something to think about ‒ at least so long as the novelty lasts.’

  ‘Oh, you wretch!’ Ginny exclaimed; but she eyed him without any trace of rancour. ‘Plainly George is quite right. You don’t care a button for me, which means I have been twice deceived.’

  Soon, arrangements for Anthony’s adoption were completed and he was living with Ginny and George. He no longer went to school in Sharveston but had a private tutor at home. There had been talk of sending him to Rugby, George’s old school, but Ginny had protested vehemently.

  ‘He has no sooner come to us than you would send him away again. The poor boy is only nine. He won’t know whether he’s on his head or his heels.’

  George found it easy enough to yield, so Anthony, it was decided, would go to Rugby the following year. Meantime, when not with his tutor, he accompanied Ginny everywhere. She was enchanted with this new toy; heaped a great many presents upon him; and, as Katharine said to Martin, was in great danger of spoiling him.

  ‘But I dare say she will get over that. And George, I think, will be firm enough. It seems they intend telling him that George is his father, not his uncle, but are giving him time to settle down. It has caused a stir in the neighbourhood, Ginny says, but she is quite frankly revelling in it. It is certainly an unusual situation.’

  ‘Unusual, but not unique,’ Martin said, ‘and in early days, from what we are told, it was even commonplace.’

  ‘In noble houses, yes, of course, and especially in royal ones. But I never expected to see such a thing within my own family. However, I can’t help feeling that it may be productive of good, because now, for the first time in years, Ginny and George have a common interest. Indeed, I hardly like to be too sanguine, but I think it has done the marriage good.’ Katharine, meeting Martin’s gaze, gave a smile and added: ‘Though she still cheats just as shamelessly when playing against him at croquet!’

  But the croquet summer was nearing its end. Soon the hoops were removed from the lawn and put away with the mallets and balls, into the box with rope handles, which was stored in one of Jobe’s garden sheds. There was a nip in the morning air; the dewy grass was silver with cobwebs; and the first bonfires were lit in the grounds, burning the first of the fallen leaves.

  Soon, from the little birch grove outside one wall of the Tudor garden, came the sound of axes biting into wood. The trees were diseased and had to be felled; each stump was being grubbed up; and the timber burnt immediately on a fire in the space already cleared. One misty afternoon, Dick, Susannah, and Anthony were helping to heap the wood on the fire, while nearby the adults stood watching them. Katharine stood talking to George. Ginny and Martin stood some way behind.

  ‘It makes me sad to see those birches go,’ Ginny said. ‘They’ve been there ever since I can remember. We used to play in them, Hugh and I, when we were children together. The trunks were much more silvery then … and the leaves in spring had a sweet rough scent … Hugh always loved these birch trees, especially when a breeze was blowing, and we used to swing up and down on the branches, with the leaves all whispering about our heads.’

  Ginny turned and looked up at Martin.

  ‘Oh, for the days that are gone!’ she said, and suddenly there were tears in her eyes. ‘Sweet happy days when life lay before us and I thought the world would be young forever. Tell me, Martin, do you ever have the feeling that you are still waiting for life to begin? No, no, of course you don’t! You are like Katharine in that respect. You both always do what you mean to do. But it is rather strange, is it not, that I, who always live for the moment, should feel the moment has passed me by, while you and Kate on the other hand ‒ Oh, I don’t know! I can’t explain. I don’t even know what I’m trying to say.’

  Still looking at him, she laughed through her tears, and her face had a sweetly vulnerable look that he had seen there only rarely. He began speaking to her but she silenced him with sudden brusqueness.

  ‘No, don’t encourage my foolishness. Let us talk of practical things. Tell me what you will do with this ground. Shall you replant it with new birch trees?’

  ‘No. Jobe thinks it’s wiser not, in case they take the same disease. But your sister has an excellent plan and I think, when you have spoken to her, you’ll find it more than compensates for the loss of this little grove here.’

  The grove of birches now being felled grew outside the north wall of the Tudor garden, always known as the ‘blind’ wall because there was no gateway in it. Katharine’s plan was that a gateway should be made in this wall, to correspond with all the others, and that outside this gateway, the approach should be planted with a double row of laburnum trees, interspersed with wisteria, which, when they grew and were pleached overhead, would form an arbour some thirty feet long. The surrounding area would be newly turfed and planted in semi-wild fashion with daffodils and fritillaries, bluebells and quamassias, all the way to the little stream that fed the round pool and the bog-garden.

  Later that afternoon, while the men and the children were still out of doors, Ginny and her sister sat together in the drawing-room. Katharine was looking through some music that Ginny had brought, and Ginny was looking through Katharine’s sketchbook, which contained her designs for the new arbour and the wrought-iron gates.

  ‘Well?’ Katharine said, glancing up. ‘What do you think of them?’

  ‘I think the whole scheme is beautiful. We always wished for a gate in that wall and you always wished you could find space for planting your laburnum arbour. Now it is all coming to pass. ‒ As many things do, given time. You know, Kate, I was just thinking ‒ and that not for the first time ‒ how strangely things have worked out for you … and, in the end, how agreeably, too … because, except for Charles being gone, your life in this house is just as it was in the days when you were mistress here.’

  Katharine frowned. It was a while before she answered.

  ‘I don’t quite understand you, Ginny. You speak as though Charles being gone were a matter of small consequence. Almost it seems as if you forget that it is my husband you’re speaking of.’

  ‘No, I am not forgetting it, Kate. But since you take me up so gravely, I feel bound to say that in my own humble opinion you are better off without him. And surely the hurt of it has grown less in the twelve months that have passed since then?’

  ‘Yes. Much less.’

  ‘Of course it has! One has only to look at you! And Railes can be thanked for much of that. Railes and Martin between them. But what I referred to in the first instance related to your position here. You are a paid housekeeper, yes, but any stranger coming into the room would think you were the lady of the house. And to all intents and purposes, so you are. You enjoy the same freedom and comfort. Even the same influence. ‒ Witness these sketches of yours for alterations in the garden.’

  ‘Yes,’ Katharine said, ‘you are right, of course.’ She closed the double sheet of music and laid it aside. ‘What I feared would happen has happened in truth. I have become too settled here … Too much inclined to impose on Martin’s kindness and forget what my position really is. I am grateful to you for pointing it out.’

  ‘Oh, what nonsense!’ Ginny exclaimed. ‘I was doing nothing of the kind, as I’m sure you must know. Whatever security and contentment you are enjoying now is only what you deserve, after all the worry and shame you endured while Charles was landing himself in Queer Street, ending with the shock of his disappearance, and I am thankful it should be so. As for your imposing on Martin, you needn’t be worried on that score, when plainly he is not worried himself. The situation is of his own making, remember, and obviously he is well pleased with it. Indeed I would go so far as
to say ‒’

  At that moment the door opened, and Martin came into the room, alone.

  ‘There, now, the very man!’ Ginny said. ‘Were your ears on fire, Martin? And were you listening at the door? If so, you will be aware that we were just speaking of you.’

  ‘Rest assured. I heard nothing.’

  ‘In that case, I’ll repeat it to you. I had been saying how comfortably settled Kate is these days, since coming to you as your housekeeper. Unfortunately she misunderstood and began to speak of imposing on you. So now I am trying to persuade her that you are quite as happy with the arrangement as she is. As happy as any man can be, that is, when he is in love with another man’s wife. And no, my dear Kate, I do not mean myself.’

  Ginny rose and went to the door, but paused for a moment, close to Martin, looking at him with her head on one side.

  ‘Though I must confess that all these years, until recently, I was foolish enough to imagine that I was the object of your devotion. What a blow to my self-esteem! I ought to be sick with jealousy but Kate is the one person in the world that I could never be jealous of. Now I will leave you alone, my dears, while I go in search of George and the children. I will do my best to keep them out of the house for at least half an hour, but as it is almost tea-time, I warn you I may not be successful.’

  Martin, having closed the door on her, turned and looked across at Katharine, who sat erect, very still and pale, staring absently before her. As he approached, she looked up at him, forcing herself to meet his gaze.

  ‘Martin ‒’

  ‘Yes, it is true. I’ve loved you for years. Right from the time when I was a boy and came into this house as your pupil. Possibly even before ‒ I can’t be sure of the exact moment ‒ but certainly from that day onwards I loved you and knew it beyond any doubt.’

  ‘So long ago? Yet you gave no sign.’