‘So that’s what it’s been working up to. I imagined your visits to be in the way of finding a little amusement. Perverseness on your part as usual, going from the devil to his opponent…You can’t mean it, Denny? She’s just a chit of a girl, you could quite well be her father.’
‘I’m aware of that, Larry, well aware that I am old enough to be her father. But as for her being a chit of a girl, you’re wrong there. She’ll be seventeen, as I understand it, in January, but she appears older; and she is a beautiful and intelligent young person.’
The two men studied each other for a moment before Laurence Freeman said, ‘Have you thought of how she’ll fit in here? How will she manage to run this place? Don’t forget I’ve seen the girl. I’ve met her. Can you visualise her giving orders to Conway who is something of a tyrant, and in age she’ll be on a par with your maids in the kitchen and…’
‘Say no more, Larry. She’ll never be on a par in any way with the maids in the kitchen. She is the daughter of a clergyman, a highly intelligent man, whose own father was a colonel in the army. Her mother is from good stock, the Bennets of Northumberland. They were poorer than their proverbial church mice, but they were of the class.’
‘My! My! We have gone into their heredity, haven’t we?’
‘Yes, you could say that, Larry. And it might prove to you now that my future action in this matter doesn’t stem from a flash in the pan: I’ve thought deeply on it.’
‘And she…what does she say?’
Dennison turned away and walked down the length of the long library, and he stood looking out over the lawn to where the barrier of topiary birds cut off the view; then slowly but firmly he said, ‘I have yet to find that out.’
‘What if she doesn’t accept you?’
There was a long pause before the answer came: ‘Then I am back to where I am standing now.’
Again there was a pause before Larry Freeman asked, ‘Have you considered the effect on one temperamental wench of all this?’
‘Yes, I have; and I hope Rene will understand…’
‘God Almighty! I never thought to hear you utter words denoting utter stupidity. Understand? Rene Myers? God! You are besotted. Others have come and gone, but she’s been firmly within your horizon for a long time. Do you think she’s just going to slip away and say, “I understand Denny, dear boy. You want to take a sweet little girl into your bed, so I shall return quietly to the arms of my husband.”’
‘Stop it! Shut up! It isn’t only Rene you’re thinking about. And I must say this, Larry: I can’t see you liking the changed situation when I do marry. So, if you wish to find new quarters I shall understand.’
They were facing each other now over a distance and the older man’s countenance had darkened. His thin lips were drawn in tight against his teeth; his eyes unblinking held a look of anger. The whole of his tall, stiff body expressed anger. And when he spoke his words came sieved through his teeth: ‘Marching orders then.’
‘No, not marching orders, Larry. It’s up to you. We can be friends as always, but either way I’ll ever be grateful for your companionship over the years.’
‘I cannot believe it.’
‘What can you not believe?’
‘That I’m getting my marching orders.’
‘If you wish to take it like that, Larry, then that is up to you. You’ll always be welcome here, but there comes a time in one’s life when a stocktaking is necessary, and I have reached that stage. I have no heir and no close relative except Beatrice. And the thought of dying and the estate passing to her keeps me awake at night. Imagine the house filled with dolls. She brought twenty-five with her on her last visit.’
‘Her claim could be challenged. Have you ever thought of that?’
‘No, and I don’t intend to, because there’s not the slightest possibility of that happening.’
‘I wouldn’t be too sure.’
‘You would enjoy such proceedings, wouldn’t you, Larry?’
‘I would find it interesting, seeing you being forced to open your eyes to the fact that for the last eight years or so he’s been under your nose.’
Dennison stared at the older man. He had always seen him as a cold imperturbable individual, and he had admired this part of his character since, as a young man escaping sorrow, he had, in a way, been taken under his worldly-wise wing. It was he who introduced him to his first mistress even though he himself had been inclined to shun any such intimacy. He hadn’t probed into his new friend’s life, he only knew he had been cashiered from the army abroad, supposedly for an affair he’d had with a superior officer’s wife. Yet he had somehow felt that wasn’t the whole story. He had always found him an amusing companion because he had a cunning wit. But in latter years he had detected a possessiveness that irked at times. He had never allowed himself to admit that he was an expensive companion: friend Larry, like himself, loved to gamble, and he wasn’t always lucky, and with the passage of time whatever debts be incurred had come to be automatically settled with his own.
Now, and not for the first time, doubt about the true value of this friendship was entering his mind. But he had never seen his friend look as he was now: the calm, suave poise had gone, there was on his countenance an expression that could only be termed hate.
But no, no, he wouldn’t go that far. Larry could never hate him. For one thing, he owed him too much. For the past ten years he had provided him with a home and all the advantages that went with it. No, he was wrong, the expression must be one of hurt and disappointment and, in a way, he could understand that. But then he was startled by his friend’s next words, deep-throated and full of bitterness: ‘If you take her you lose me…entirely.’
Dennison found himself stretching upwards and he knew that his face had become scarlet as it always did when it evinced temper. Indignantly he cried, ‘An ultimatum? My God! You’re giving me an ultimatum? Well, Larry, let me tell you this, you have the answer and I don’t need to voice it, do I?’
The man glared at him, then muttered thickly, ‘No, you don’t. And yet I can’t believe it.’ He drew in a deep breath and let it slowly out before he added, ‘So this is the end of an episode. Well, I’m going to say one more thing, I wish you luck with your little vicarage piece, and my God, you’re going to need it, because Rene will tear you both to shreds. It’s a pity she’s abroad because I would like to be present when the battle begins, and begin it will.’ He now brought his thin lips tightly together, and sucked them inwards before swinging around and making for the door. But there he stopped and, looking back, he demanded, ‘The coach; I suppose I can order it to take me to the station?’
When Dennison made no reply to this he went out, and the sturdy panelling in the room shuddered as the door clashed to.
Dennison now sat on the window seat, but he did not look out for his eyes were closed and his hand was covering them. He leant his back against the deep stone bay and his breath escaped in a long slow sigh. It was over. It had to come one way or another. Perhaps this was as good as any, perhaps better than indicating to him that he couldn’t afford his companionship any longer. He had been finding it difficult enough to pay his own gaming debts, but that last five hundred had been a bit too much. And all taken for granted.
That had been the odd thing about Larry’s friendship, he had never discussed money but from the start whatever he bought, or owed, had been put down to his name. It was as if he himself could draw from a spring that would never run dry, but the spring had dwindled to a mere trickle of late, aided by both his and Rene’s call on his purse.
The name brought him up from his seat and he thumped one fist into the palm of his other hand; Larry had been right about Rene’s reactions. There’d be hell to pay in that quarter. For some long time now, he had to confess, he had become weary of her too. He also felt that Poulter Myers was tired of being made a cuckold of. It was known that he had his own leisure occupation, set up in a house in Newcastle, but then he was discreet about it; un
like his wife who flaunted her pastimes, and he himself had been openly declared as one of them for some time now. Of course, he must own to having enjoyed the game, for that’s what it was. And she had proved to be a lively companion, often acting like a bawdy eighteenth century wench in that she lacked subtlety of any kind. Yes, what Larry had said was true, there would be hell to pay in that quarter. But he had some respite, for she was with her husband on his diplomatic business across the channel: it could be a month, perhaps two before she returned; she hated the English winters especially in these northern climes, and undoubtedly she would spend most of her time in the South of France. It would be the longest separation between them in the last three years, and from now on it would be extended. Oh, yes—he walked up the room now, shaking his head—if he could make that charming child his wife then the disassociation with Rene would have to be extended indefinitely.
Even so, doubtless he would have to explain away, in the lightest manner of course, his past connection with Mrs Rene Poulter Myers. The parson, at a stretch, might accept that he was a man of the world, now determined to settle down, but the man’s wife was another matter altogether, as was his mother. Oh, yes, as was his mother.
He sighed deeply as he gnawed at his lower lip for a moment. Tomorrow he would start his offensive by paying the vicarage a visit and inviting Miss Nancy Ann Hazel and her brother Peter, whom he understood was coming home for the Christmas holidays, to the ball, which had been a yearly event used as a means of bringing his friends together for a romp. But now there must be no more such romps, and he would have to think, and think carefully, about whom he should invite.
Two
Dennison sat on the straight-backed chair towards the foot of Rebecca’s couch. The vicar was sitting on a straight-backed chair close to the head of the couch. The couch today was placed with its back to the bed and facing the fire. The doors leading into the conservatory were tightly closed to keep out the wind that whirled through the slack panes of glass of which there were many devoid of putty, much of it having being picked out by the hungry jackdaws in the winter.
As usual, Jessica sat nearest the fire, while furthest away from it, slightly behind her father but facing the visitor, sat Nancy Ann, trying her hardest to comply with the Dame school’s training of how one should act in company: not to fidget or show too much excitement, not to laugh loudly or speak out of turn. And she managed very well till now, when, on a high note, she exclaimed, ‘Yes! Yes, I’d love to come to your ball. Thank you.’
‘Nancy Ann, please!’ Her mother’s soft voice held a deep reprimand, and she brought Nancy Ann to stillness by saying, ‘It is for your father to decide.’
‘Of course. I’m sorry.’ She bowed her head, knowing that the guest was smiling to himself, and also, from the stiffness of her father’s profile, that he didn’t approve of the invitation. And she had been silly, oh, so silly to make such an outburst. Now she had placed him in a position that would make it difficult for him to refuse Mr Harpcore’s request. Yet, the invitation had been for Peter too. Peter would have enjoyed a ball, she knew that. He had wanted to take her to one in Newcastle, but her mother had had a turn, and so the treat had been deferred.
‘I’m sorry if my proposal has caused some embarrassment.’ Dennison had risen to his feet and was looking directly at the parson, who had slowly risen from his chair too, and he went on, ‘As it was the festive season I thought that perhaps your son and daughter might like to come up to the house. I used the word ball, but I think I should have explained myself better by saying there will be a select gathering of my friends. We always meet the day following Boxing Day and have a little dinner and a dance. But if it doesn’t meet with your approval I’ll understand. May I take my leave of you, Mrs Hazel?’ He bowed towards Rebecca, adding, ‘I’m glad to see you looking much better than when I was last here. May I hope the improvement continues.’ He now bowed towards Jessica who, unusual for her, had not spoken one word during the time he had been in the room.
Now, to the surprise of them all, it was Rebecca who said, ‘Let me assure you, Mr Harpcore, your kind offer has not caused any embarrassment, and as she so spontaneously declared, Nancy Ann would be pleased to accept your invitation, as I’m sure will Peter when he returns.’ She drew in a short shuddering breath; then looking at her daughter, she said, ‘Would you see Mr Harpcore out, Nancy Ann?’
‘Yes, Mama.’ It was a mere whisper. And now with her head raised and eyes bright, she smiled at the visitor, then followed him after he had bowed his farewells to each of the company in turn.
In the hall, Nancy Ann handed him his greatcoat and waited for him to put it on before offering him his hat. Then smiling at him, she said bluntly, ‘It nearly didn’t come off, did it? That’s me, I should have kept quiet and let things take their drawing-room course.’
She now hunched her shoulders slightly as she added, ‘That was an expression of my teacher at school. It’s a silly expression, isn’t it?’
He wanted to put his head back and laugh; he wanted to throw out his arms and hug her to him; he wanted…he wanted. But what he wanted, he realised by her manner towards him, was further away than ever, for she was treating him like a kindly uncle; she had no idea in that beautiful head of hers that he was acting as a suitor. He was tempted to put things right this very minute, but he warned himself, make haste slowly, especially in this household. So, in a conspiratorial whisper, he said, ‘Yes, you nearly did put your foot in it.’
Suddenly, her face became straight and her voice serious as she said, ‘I’ve never been to a ball; I likely won’t know how to behave. But then’—she shrugged her shoulders—‘Peter will be with me. He has attended a number of balls, at least, dances.’
Again he spoke quietly; ‘Well, between Peter and myself,’ he said, ‘we will show you the ropes.’
She smiled, then held out her hand, saying, ‘Goodbye, Mr Harpcore. And may I take this opportunity to thank you for all your kindness to my mother in sending such beautiful food and fruit.’
‘Oh, that…that. Nothing. Nothing.’ He went quickly from her, shaking his head; but at the bottom of the steps he turned and looked at her again, then raised his hand in a little wave. And she responded in the same way.
She stood watching him walk towards the stable to get his horse, and when he reappeared, mounted, he looked pleased to see her still standing at the top of the steps. It was she who waved first; and he responded holding the horse reined in for a moment before putting it into a trot.
After closing the door she stood looking towards the stairs. She liked him, he was nice, and she was going to a ball. She was actually going to a ball …
As soon as Nancy Ann had left the room with the visitor, John looked at his wife with a pained look, and there was bewilderment in his tone as he said, ‘Rebecca. Why?’
She stared at him for a long moment before she said, ‘I…I have my reasons, John. I…I will talk about them later. And with you, too, Mother-in-law. But I think you know what they are already, don’t you?’
‘Yes, yes, Rebecca, I think I do.’ Jessica nodded at her daughter-in-law, then looked at her son and said, ‘She’ll be back in a minute. This matter needs mulling over; but in the meantime, John Howard, I would advise you to act as natural as you can. In fact, show her that you’re pleased she can go to the ball, or dinner or dance, or whatever it is. And besides, whatever you think, remember she’s had very little pleasure in her young life and no fun, as I see it, whatever.’
‘Oh, Mother, she’s happy.’
‘Up to a point. But what you don’t realise, my son, is that your daughter’s no longer a little girl, she’s a budding woman.’
‘Nonsense. Nonsense. She is but sixteen.’
‘She is seventeen in a matter of weeks and you know it. And your bride’—she turned her head and nodded towards Rebecca—‘was not yet eighteen when you married her. Think on’t. Yes, think on’t. Now here she comes. Be happy for her. It is a small thing as
yet she is asking, but what she’ll say when something greater is asked of her, I don’t know.’
‘Greater? What do you mean, greater?’ Her son looked at her, his face screwed up in enquiry, and to this his mother answered, ‘Rebecca will explain later.’
Nancy Ann had prepared the couch for her father where he slept at night at the foot of his wife’s bed, having flatly refused for weeks now to sleep upstairs.
She had taken up her grandmother’s last drink of the day, hot milk with a sprinkling of ginger in it. She had said goodnight to her parents, then had gone into the kitchen and had said goodnight to the girls, and while doing so had imparted to them the wonderful news that she was going to a ball. And none of them gave away the fact that they already knew this. As Peggy said, Hilda had ears like a cuddy’s lugs and through practice she could move from a keyhole with the lightning speed of a young colt, all of which Hilda took as praise. But they had all oohed and aahed and made a fuss of her. And now she had gone upstairs to bed, and Rebecca and John were alone.
John had been very quiet all evening. Of course, he had been sitting at a side table preparing his sermon for the coming Sunday. Nevertheless, he hadn’t turned occasionally and smiled at her, as was his usual habit. And now she held out a thin hand to him, saying, ‘John. Come and sit near me.’
Having obeyed her, he took her hand in his own and stroked it, and he looked tenderly into her face as she said, ‘Will you hear me out?’
‘I’ve always heard you out, my dear.’
‘Yes, you have, John. Yes, you have. But I am sure you will want to interrupt what I am going to say to you now.’
When he made no answer she leant back into her pillows and rested for a moment before, in a low voice, she began. ‘As you know only too well John, my days are numbered. How many are left? I don’t rightly know; that depends on the good God’s will, but, of late, I have prayed to Him and asked Him to spare me until I see our daughter settled.’ When she felt his hand move she entwined her fingers in his, then went on. ‘When I go she will take over the household. Well, she has done that already, but she will think it her duty to look after Grandmama and you for the rest of your days. Our daughter, John, is a beautiful girl. She is intelligent and so full of spirit. I would hate to think that the loneliness of the future, that of an unmarried woman, would dim that spirit. I have searched in my mind of the men of our acquaintance, and who are they? Apart from Mr Mercer, they are farmers and tradesmen, and farmers, as you know, both old and young, are notorious for using their wives as upper servants. Just think of the Bradfords, the Henleys, and the Fords, their women work harder than does our washerwoman. Anyway, the young farmers seem to be paired off immediately they leave school, and usually it is to a robust daughter of another farmer. Then turn to the village. Which young man would be a suitable match for her? The Taylors? The Pollocks? The Nortons? They have seven sons among them, all worthy young men, but rough cast. And what is noticeable, at least to me, not one of them has yet turned his eyes in her direction.’
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