Agnes Or The Art 0f Friendship

by Catherine Bowness

  “Who would open the door?” Louisa asked.

  “Well, I suppose I could – that would probably form part of my duties,” Agnes suggested, imagining herself dressed in a plain grey gown and opening the door to visitors.

  “Oh, surely you would not be expected to do that? I suppose you would read to her ladyship, do a little light mending – you are quite good at that – and converse with her while thus employed. I expect she would want you to play the pianoforte too – probably she would not have room for a large instrument but I daresay one of those small square ones could be squeezed into a corner.”

  “I should not suppose she would be able to afford to buy anything new,” Agnes said, “and, if she has been living in a large house, I would not think that she would have had a small square piano. What would have been the use when I am persuaded they do not offer the same range or sound as a proper-sized instrument?”

  “Do you not think she could manage even that?” Louisa asked, rather astonished for she had very little idea of the cost of anything, such matters never having been of the least concern in her family.

  “I suppose I could take my lute,” Agnes said doubtfully, “and accompany myself in a song or two.”

  “Indeed you could, although I always think the lute a rather melancholy instrument and there will surely be enough sadness in that house without adding to it.”

  “We will weep together,” Agnes said, turning down the corners of her mouth.

  “And you can bring your sketchbook – that will not take up much space.”

  “No,” Agnes agreed. “But sketching is a rather solitary pastime; I cannot imagine that I will offer much in the way of companionship if I spend all my time wandering about the country with my sketchbook.”

  “You will have to stop drawing landscapes and flowers,” Louisa told her, “and start drawing portraits.”

  “Of whom? There will be no one there but her ladyship and the servants. I cannot keep drawing my employer nor yet her maids.”

  “You will have to come here – both of you – and you can do portraits of our guests. You know, I think that is an excellent idea. You will enjoy painting and Lady Armitage will have some company.”

  “It is a lovely idea,” Agnes agreed, “but I have never tried to do anyone’s likeness – most people do not want to sit unless it is for a famous society painter – and I am persuaded you are not at liberty to invite whom you choose to your parents’ house.”

  “No, I am not, but Mama is constantly encouraging me to find a husband; I shall tell her I do not wish to go to London – at least not without my portrait-painting friend – so she must invite people here. I am persuaded they will want to come because, although the ton looks down on Papa, they will be quite ready to accept what they will no doubt expect to be his generous hospitality.”

  “Is that why you are so reluctant to have another ‘come-out’?” Agnes asked, beginning to understand her lively friend’s apparent reluctance to exchange the intrinsic dullness of the country for the rowdiness of London.

  “It is part of the reason; I do not wish to be looked over and criticised by hordes of fortune-hunters as though I were for sale in Tattersalls and nor do I wish to see the scornful glances directed at Mama by the ladies of the ton,” Louisa admitted.

  “If your mama is prepared to face it to find you a husband, should not you do so also?”

  “I would much rather not – and I own that I find her distress hard to endure; she does it for me but she suffers every time one of those haughty females looks down her nose at her.”

  Agnes, who was rather glad than otherwise that Mrs Newbolt was not presently in residence, was surprised by this admission; she had not been aware that her friend’s mother, who was inclined to speak both loudly and disparagingly about other people, suffered from the sort of sensitivity that she, Agnes, did. She wondered why the woman adopted such an exceedingly conspicuous manner if she did not want to be noticed.

  Louisa did not miss her friend’s astonishment. She said, “I can see you are wondering why she draws attention to herself if she does not like it when it lights upon her. I do not think she can help it, you know, any more than I can – or indeed you can help creeping about in the background like a little mouse. It is the way we are.”

  “Yes, perhaps it is,” Agnes acknowledged, not altogether pleased to be likened to a mouse. “I suppose, though,” she went on after a moment, “that, if you do not particularly wish to be married, there is no reason for you to submit to what one might call a re-presentation to Society except to please your mama. Would she, do you suppose, consent to allow you to find a husband more locally without being obliged to endure the exposure that you shrink from in London?”

  “She has been pursuing that idea for the past five years,” Louisa said, “without much success. The trouble is that we know no one here.”

  “Have you not attended the local assembly rooms? I am sure you would find a few unassuming country gentlemen looking for brides there,” Agnes suggested tentatively.

  “We have been there innumerable times,” Louisa admitted, “and I can assure you that all those ‘unassuming country gentlemen’ run a mile when they are introduced to females they judge presumptuous. We have both become thoroughly disillusioned with country society.”

  “In that case there is nothing for it but to return to London – or I suppose you could try Paris.”

  “I should imagine I would be even less popular in Paris amongst all those sophisticated French Mesdemoiselles. Both Mama and I would seem horridly vulgar – and big – have you noticed how dainty Frenchwomen are? No, I am afraid it will have to be London unless I can persuade Mama that I cannot contemplate marriage for some reason or another. But pray do not let us dwell upon such a lowering subject as it is more than six months away; let us rather concentrate on finding a suitable cottage for you and Lady Armitage. We can have it decorated and new curtains made and so on so that it will be just as fresh and pretty as something out of a fairy tale.”

  Agnes smiled. “I do hope Lady Armitage will not turn out to be a witch. I suppose I could become a governess if I cannot face living with her.”

  “That would be horrid – and you would have to go away and live somewhere else and then we would never see each other. Also, just think of all those horrid rude children you would have to teach. I suppose we have been reasonably well educated at school – and you would be able to teach them to draw and paint – and play the pianoforte and sing as well. Indeed, now I think about it, I am beginning to wonder if we should start a school ourselves.”

  “Would your papa permit it?” Agnes asked doubtfully.

  “No. He wants me to be married and he expects a Viscount at the very least for his money.”

  In fact Louisa had received several offers during the two seasons she had been dragged around the balls and routs in London but, since she had disliked all her pursuers and her father was too indulgent to make the least push to oblige her to choose one of them, she had returned to Sussex unwed.

  There was no real reason why she should remain unsought there either for she still possessed the fortune, which might seem even more substantial to people outside the metropolis, but Agnes was not surprised to hear that the sort of gentlemen who looked for a bride in the local assembly rooms should have been repulsed by her. It is well known that those in the provinces are inclined to be somewhat staid and reluctant to try anything new - and Miss Newbolt was the sort of young woman who seemed new to persons who held dyed-in-the-wool views. Her fortune came from trade – her father, who now ran his own business, had begun his commercial life in the East India Company – and her views were independent and strongly expressed.

  “Is that what you seek?” Agnes asked.

  “I could not care a button whether the man is a Viscount or a cowherd,” Louisa said bluntly. “But I would infinitely prefer it if he were not a mincing idiot with expensive habits and a strong desire to replenish his family coffers –
which he has most likely emptied with his profligate conduct. Incidentally, in the strictest confidence – do not on pain of my never speaking to you again and throwing you out of the charming cottage I plan to put you in – divulge a word to Lady Armitage, but her elder son, who is now Sir John, dangled after me for the best part of one Season.”

  “Good gracious!” Agnes exclaimed. “We cannot possibly live in a cottage on your estate if that is the case – I presume you sent him away with a flea in his ear?”

  “I certainly did. He is the most odious man I ever met. I suspect that he is a misogynist at heart although he makes very pretty love and is, I think, the handsomest man I ever beheld but he is not a good dissimulator; it was perfectly obvious from the get-go that he cared only for my fortune and, since all he could offer in exchange were his ravishing looks, neither Mama nor Papa put any pressure upon me to accept him.”

  “Did he make you an offer in spite of your no doubt unconcealed dislike of him?”

  “Oh yes; I think he is of the belief that his looks will make every female swoon at his feet even if he can barely be bothered to speak to her.”

  “Did you meet his mother?”

  “No, which is why I do not think there will be the least difficulty in your taking a cottage on the estate with her. She was not in London and I should think it most unlikely that he sent her a monthly list of the heiresses he was unsuccessfully pursuing. I do wonder, though, what sort of a woman she is to have brought up such a disagreeable son.”

  “But was he disagreeable?”

  “Not in the sense of being uncivil, no; but, yes, exceedingly so, in the sense of caring for no one but himself. I would not be surprised to learn that his mother finds herself in such dire financial straits on account of his extravagance. He is spoiled in just the way that one expects a young man to be when he has been the apple of a doting mother’s eye.”

  Chapter 3

  Her friend’s harsh judgment of Lady Armitage’s maternal skills made Agnes wary of meeting the widow but, so passionate had Louisa’s criticism of both man and mother been, that she found herself wondering if in fact Louisa had been more affected by the combination of her former suitor’s looks and disdain than she was prepared to admit. Indeed, she wondered if Louisa had conceived a tendre for the young man but denied it on account of her perception of his contempt.

  When Mrs Lewis arrived to convey her to Armitage Hall, she greeted her with all the pleasure of a young relative who has recently buried a parent and seeks, elsewhere, something resembling that which she has lost.

  “My dearest child,” Mrs Lewis enthused, enfolding the younger woman in a maternal embrace. “I can see you are bearing up as best you can in the circumstances. I hope we have found the answer to your dilemma as to your future. You will, I know, like Lady Armitage exceedingly. She is an excessively kind woman.”

  Agnes thought that perhaps she was a little too kind – and possibly rather weak – to have indulged her son to such a degree but she said nothing, only introducing her old friend to her young one.

  “So kind of you to take Agnes in,” Mrs Lewis said, clasping Louisa’s hand warmly.

  “Oh, it is the greatest possible pleasure, ma’am,” Louisa replied at once. “For my part, I would be perfectly happy if she were to remain here for ever. Forgive me for making what you may consider a rather forward suggestion, but Agnes has given me some idea of the straits to which Lady Armitage is reduced and her need to move to a smaller abode. We, Agnes and I, have put our heads together and I must tell you that there are a number of cottages on this estate which are presently vacant, one of which might be the very place that would suit her ladyship - at least until she has managed to get upon her feet again.”

  “Good gracious!” Mrs Lewis exclaimed, startled. Clearly, this tall young woman with the luxuriant hair was a managing female in the making.

  “I hope you do not consider I am speaking out of turn,” Louisa went on, noticing the guest’s startled look. “I wished only to point out that there are plenty of perfectly adequate houses for Lady Armitage to choose between. It is selfish of me, but I would like my dearest Agnes to stay in the neighbourhood – and it would not be so very far from Armitage Hall that her ladyship could not remain in touch with her friends.”

  This explanation did a good deal to allay Mrs Lewis’s fears that she was being browbeaten by a chit of a girl – even if the chit was at least six inches taller than she – and she promised to pass the offer on to Lady Armitage.

  The next morning after breakfast Mrs Lewis and Agnes set off for Armitage Hall. It was not a long drive and the pair arrived in time for the early dinner which people in the country were accustomed to take.

  Armitage Hall was a large manor house built of stone and was designed in a style which is often described as ‘rambling’. In the case of Armitage Hall this was most likely because it had started life, some two or three hundred years ago, as a more modest establishment but had grown in a piecemeal fashion until it reached its present proportions. Agnes, looking at it with an interested eye as they drove towards it, reflected that the Armitage family appeared to have done well and augmented their fortunes over the generations until the whole edifice had been sent tumbling to the ground by the profligacy of its most recent scion. She thought that it was a pity they could not simply remove some of the extra wings and allow the building to revert to its original proportions; if that were achievable, it would be a deal less expensive to run and poor Lady Armitage would very likely have been able to afford to remain there.

  Her ladyship received them in a small saloon on the ground floor. It was prettily furnished and done out in a variety of shades of blue, which gave it a restful but slightly gloomy air. She herself was a tall woman with a handsome face and dark hair in the process of turning grey so that there were streaks of both colours intermingled, an effect which was at once distinguished and oddly vulnerable. She had large eyes of a colour generally described as hazel and a manner that was almost tragically at variance with her appearance; such a fine, tall woman should surely have had a commanding bearing; this one seemed somehow diminished as though, along with her finances, her spirit had been pruned.

  “I am delighted to meet you, Miss Helman,” she said to Agnes. She did not sound delighted; rather, she appeared indifferent.

  “And I you, my lady,” Agnes replied demurely, bobbing a faint suggestion of a curtsey in the older woman’s direction.

  Mrs Lewis took it upon herself to do most of the talking, which was a relief to Agnes and clearly also to Lady Armitage, who sat in her chair and toyed with a glass of Madeira and a small dry biscuit.

  “Dinner will be served within the hour,” her ladyship informed them. “I hope you will not find that inconvenient but I do not keep late hours on my own. Of course,” she added, apparently suddenly remembering the presence of her guests, “I am not alone tonight, but I am sure you know what I mean.”

  “Of course,” Mrs Lewis replied robustly. “It would be most unwise for your digestion to change your hours to suit us for one evening. In any event, I do not myself care to eat late.”

  “No,” Lady Armitage agreed dully, “but I daresay Miss Helman would not choose to eat so early; I have noticed that the young prefer to keep late hours.”

  “I do not,” Agnes said. “Until he died, I kept house for my father, who was rector of a small parish. He was always up at dawn – long before in the winter – and liked to eat early too, although I believe he often took an extra small supper late in the evening after I had retired. He kept late hours but was always up early,” she explained, blushing at her temerity in speaking for such a protracted length of time.

  “You must miss him,” Lady Armitage murmured.

  “Yes; my life has changed a great deal,” Agnes acknowledged. She felt she ought to return the sympathy but there was something about poor Lady Armitage which made her hold her tongue.

  “As has mine,” her ladyship said, clearly making an effort. �
��You have yours all before you and I own I wonder if such a young person should be permitted to immure herself with an old fossil like me.”

  Since Agnes was thinking along similar lines she once again failed to respond as she knew she should; the truth was that, from what she had so far seen of the widow, she had formed the impression that living with her would be a dispiriting affair and should not be undertaken lightly. The older lady was by no means old – no more than fifty in any event – and, in spite of her depressed air, looked to be made of healthy stock. If she were to become her companion she would no doubt find herself stuck with the poor lady for at least ten years – unless either found the arrangement so disagreeable that one or the other would find the courage to end it.

  “I understand,” Agnes said at last, “that you are looking for a smaller place to live.”

  “Yes, unfortunately. It is not a choice I would make if I was not obliged to retrench drastically. When my husband died, I discovered that the estate was heavily encumbered and I can no longer afford to remain here. It is not, of course, mine now but belongs to my elder son, who is presently abroad with the army – but he cannot afford to live here either.”

  “I am extremely sorry to hear that,” Agnes said. “Have you thought where you will go?”

  “No. I have, with advice from the lawyer who is administering my husband’s will, decided that the best thing I can do is to find a tenant to take this house. In that way, it will be available to my son when he returns from abroad – if, that is, he can afford to maintain it. He, the lawyer, has appointed an agent to oversee looking for a suitable tenant. I will move out as soon as one is found but have begun the process by warning the servants that they may have to seek other employment if the tenant does not wish to take them on.”

  “The reason I ask,” Agnes persisted, disliking the way she appeared to be trying to manage the older lady’s life, “is that I have been staying with an old school friend since my father died. She lives in Sussex where her father has a large estate. My friend, Miss Newbolt, has suggested we might like to rent one of the cottages. I am certain she would be happy for you to live there on your own if you feel, on reflection, that you would prefer not to set up home with me,” she added, blushing, for she was by no means certain that Lady Armitage was any more taken with her than she was with her ladyship.