Then the Garter King at Arms rode into the courtyard on a splendid grey followed by heralds and pursuivants in their brightly quartered robes of office, and the cobbles were suddenly hidden by a blaze of red and gold and purple. There were eight officers of arms on horseback carrying massive silver maces, the Sergeant Trumpeter with his mace and collar, massed trumpeters and drummers, the Knights Marshal and his men, and last and most importantly the Duke of Norfolk whose function it was, as Earl Marshal of England, to read the proclamation.
The great crowd listened in a silence only broken by the snort of horses and the occasional rattle of accoutrements while the historic words echoed round and round the courtyard. But when the final phrase was spoken, they broke into such a cheer that they made the horses shift with alarm.
And the Queen smiled at them and waved her little white hand, and so the deed was done.
‘Wasn’t that thrilling!’ Caroline said. ‘Are you staying to lunch?’
‘Of course,’ Nan said, ‘we can’t send you home unfed, can we, Euphemia?’
In fact they didn’t send her home until it was nearly time for bed. And by then she had taken lunch and dinner with them and Caroline had assumed full charge of her. During dinner Nan started them talking about schools. Will entertained them with tales of his life at King Edward’s school, and Caroline had described her dear Mrs Flowerdew and the drawing afternoons.
‘But then you are to go to school too, are you not?’ she asked Euphemia. ‘So you will see all this for yourself.’
‘Yes,’ Euphemia said, but she didn’t sound at all enthusiastic.
‘Don’t you want to go to school?’ Nan asked.
The answer was resigned. ‘If my father wishes it.’
‘Do you wish it?’ Caroline said. ‘Oh you must, surely. There is such a lot to do at school and so many people. Think how dull it would be at home all by yourself.’ She’d quite forgotten how passionately she’d opposed her own schooling.
Euphemia was careful not to say anything that might appear critical of her father. ‘If it is to be, it will be,’ she said.
‘If it is to be, then why shouldn’t it be at Mrs Flowerdew’s?’ Caroline said, seeing the solution at once. ‘If your father means to send you to a boarding school anyway, he might as well send you to Mrs Flowerdew’s. You’d like that, I can tell you.’
Euphemia was so overwhelmed by the way she was being taken over by this energetic cousin of hers that she didn’t know what to say. After the vivid colour of her life in Calcutta, and the muddled gentleness of it, all those dusty orange sunsets, and the river full of bobbing black heads and flowing arms religiously sluicing themselves with water, and the roads stained red with betel juice, and her dear ayah with her gap-toothed smile and her tender eyes, now here in this bustling, purposeful city she felt as though she was being dragged along behind a team of horses. It would be nice to go to school with Caroline, that was true, but everything was happening too quickly. In just twenty-four hours her life seemed to have changed entirely. ‘I … that is …’ she said.
But Caroline was explaining her plan to her grandmother.
‘Well now,’ Nan said, grinning at them both. ‘How would it be if I told you it was already arranged?’ How well this was working out!
‘Truly?’ Caroline said, clapping her hands together.
‘Truly. I gave Mrs Flowerdew’s brochure to Euphemia’s father some time ago. She is already entered there.’
Rapturous hugging and squeals of delight.
‘And as she’s to attend the same school, I daresay I could prevail upon Mr Callbeck to let her board with us, if you’d like that.’
Could there be any doubt?
So Euphemia came to stay with her cousin and was prepared for school. They had a marvellous time. First they went out with Bessie and bought material for a wardrobe of English clothes for Euphemia, and then they went to the pleasure gardens, and the theatre, and for a boat trip along the Thames as far as Richmond, and on the afternoon of the third day they discovered to their delight that they were both about to celebrate their birthdays, and that wonder of wonders, Euphemia’s twelfth birthday was on 27 June, the day before Caroline’s eleventh.
‘You are a year and a day older than me,’ Caroline said. ‘It’s like the fair stories. It is always a year and a day in fairy stories. We must have two parties, mustn’t we Bessie, one on each day.’
So they had two parties, and they went back to Mrs Flower-dew’s Seminary together and by the end of that summer they were as close as sisters, and Euphemia said she’d never felt so happy in all her life. When her parents took ship for India in the autumn, she hardly noticed them go.
‘Very satisfactory,’ Nan said to John. ‘A companion of her own age was just what your Caroline needed.’
Chapter 5
‘Have you seen today’s Gazette?’ Jeff Jefferson called, striding through the Market Place in Cambridge towards Will Easter and Dodo Overthorne.
It was a bright spring day just before the start of the summer term in Queen Victoria’s coronation year, and the town was suddenly a place of milk and honey, a place of generosity, a place anticipating the easy abundance of summer. The streets were strewn with fresh sand, a pleasant ochre after the grime of winter, the buildings glowed with that particular honey-coloured blue-shadowed patina that only early sunshine will bestow, and the canvas canopies of the stalls below them were long swathes of undulating cream and yellow. The market was busy that day, the stalls heaped with produce, earth-brown potatoes, cabbage and cauliflowers, mounds of yellow parsnips, green and white swedes, baskets of eggs in every shade from chocolate to cream. The poultry stalls were curtained with fur and feathers, ducks and chickens hung by the beak, and rabbits by the heels, their white bellies soft in the sunshine, and lying across one stall was a long line of plucked geese, their white-ruffed heads dangling a mere six dripping inches above the sand.
It was the first time Jeff had seen his two friends since the end of March. What a bit of luck they’d come up so early and dressed so stylishly. No one could miss them among all that buff and cream, for Dodo was flamboyant in his emerald green jacket, with a bright blue stock and a new waistcoat embroidered in sky-blue, orange and purple, and Will sported a new jacket in burgundy red with a silk plush hat to match. They were lounging against the railings beside Hobson’s conduit, watching as the market women filled their buckets and pails, and Dodo’s monocle caught the sun like a jewel as he raised it elegantly to his eye.
‘Never mind the Gazette,’ Will said as his old friend came puffing up beside him. ‘You ain’t heard my news. I’m to start work with the Morning Advertiser this summer as ever is, providing I pass muster with my first commission. What do you think of that, eh?’
‘They’ll regret it,’ Jeff said happily, punching Will on the arm to show how pleased he was. ‘What’s the commission?’
‘He’s to write about the coronation,’ Dodo yawned, feigning boredom with the whole subject. ‘Pretty damned original, eh?’
‘Then you’d better read the Gazette,’ Jeff said, thrusting the paper at Will. ‘Remember that letter from Tubby?’
‘Oh God!’ Dodo groaned. ‘Which letter? He’s always writin’ letters. Can’t stop the fool.’
‘The letter about the coronation,’ Jeff said. ‘You remember. “Let Cambridge feed the five thousand.” Well, read that and see if he ain’t started something.’
Will took the paper and read the article below his friend’s urgent finger. ‘My stars!’ he said. ‘They’re going to do it. They’re actually going to feed the poor to celebrate the coronation. “What better way could there be to mark our allegiance to the Queen than by a simple and public act of charity and goodwill towards the poorest of her people?”’
‘Simple?’ Dodo protested, swaying his long legs away from the splash of a passing pail. ‘Feeding five thousand paupers?’
‘Fourteen thousand,’ Jeff corrected. ‘Fourteen thousand from every single
parish hereabouts. Ain’t that the most amazing thing?’
‘They are asking for volunteers to help in the organization,’ Will said, still reading the paper. ‘How about it, Dodo? I’m game if you are. It’ll be a lark.’ And it would give him the very thing to write about. A local piece, full of local colour. It couldn’t be better.
‘They don’t need volunteers yet,’ Dodo protested. ‘It’s only April, for heaven’s sake. The coronation ain’t for months.’
‘Twenty-eighth of June,’ Jeff told him. ‘Nine weeks. No time at all.’
‘It’s my sister’s birthday too,’ Will said. ‘I could invite her up to see this for a birthday treat. How’s that for an idea? In fact I could invite all my cousins and you two and Tubby and we could have supper together at the Eagle, as a reward for our efforts. Come on, Dodo. Say the word.’
‘Madness,’ Dodo groaned, adjusting his monocle.
‘I knew you’d agree,’ Will said, grinning at him. ‘Come on then. No time like the present.’ And he went striding off through the covered stalls towards Petty Cury, walking at such speed that the six dangling geese swung their necks at his passing as though they were still alive.
John Easter was pleased to hear that his son had joined the organizing committee, and wrote off at once to pledge his support, ‘which will be largely monetary, I fear, since I am unlikely to be in Cambridge for any length of time between now and the coronation.’
‘It will be excellent experience for him,’ he said to Nan when she came back to London at the beginning of May. ‘Give him a taste for organization.’
‘I thought he’d took a job with the Advertiser,’ Nan said.
‘If they’ll have him,’ John said. ‘He has to earn it, so he tells me. And he might not like it, even if it is offered. No, no, I shall start him in the Stamping Office in July, you’ll see. Unless Mr Brougham and his friends have repealed the Stamp Act by then.’
‘Would that they could,’ Nan sighed. The necessity to have all newspapers stamped was a daily chore she deeply resented. ‘It’ud save us a deal of bother and earn us a deal of trade.’
‘A pipe dream,’ Billy said. ‘The government are far more likely to increase the licence than abolish it, when it brings in such a steady revenue and keeps out undesirable news-sheets into the bargain.’
‘Not all of them,’ John said. ‘There’s a fiery publication new out, so I’m told, edited by a gentleman called Feargus O’Connor and advocating reform in no uncertain terms, and all stamped and legal and above board.’
‘What’s the price of it?’ Nan asked, interested at once.‘
‘Fourpence ha’penny.’
‘Reasonable enough in all conscience. What’s the circulation?’
‘Thirty thousand, so they say.’
Her interest increased. ‘Do we sell it?’
‘No.’
‘Then we shall.’ It was one way out of the doldrums. ‘I will negotiate with Mr O’Connor this afternoon.’ And she brushed the palms of her hands against each other, swish, swish, the way she always did when she’d made an important decision.
‘Your regional managers won’t like it,’ John warned. ‘It’s a very radical paper.’
‘We’ll persuade ‘em.’
Billy laughed out loud. ‘You mean you’ll ride roughshod over ‘em,’ he said.
‘Something a’ that,’ she agreed, grinning at him.
‘And you wonder why your Caroline is so strong-willed,’ Billy said to his brother.
‘She’s being saintly, just at present,’ Nan said. ‘When I left she was trimming her summer bonnet with white ribbon, ready for Will’s coronation party.’
‘What a blessing they are all going to Cambridge for the occasion,’ John said wryly. ‘London will be quite peaceful with only the ceremony and the procession to contend with.’
Will’s coronation supper was all arranged. He had written to all his cousins, informing them that rooms had been booked for them to stay overnight at the Eagle in Benet Street where the party was being held, and urging them to meet him on Parker’s Piece as soon after mid-day as they could.
‘We are building a rotunda in the middle of the field,’ he wrote. ‘A sizeable construction which will make a first-rate landmark, so I suggest we meet there. I will walk around it until you are all arrived.’
He was right. Nobody could have missed the rotunda. It was set right in the middle of the field, topped by the royal standard, hung about with flowers, and big enough to contain the full string orchestra that had been hired to play throughout the proceedings. There was a circular promenade all around it, where the college hierarchy strolled in the deliberately careless splendour of their scarlet gowns, and the gentry gathered to admire their generosity. And radiating out from the promenade like the spokes of some enormous wheel were sixty very long tables, each one marked by a pennant on which was written the names of the parishes and Sunday schools that were to feed there.
When Caroline and Euphemia arrived, with Bessie in attendance, the feast had already begun and the Piece was swarming with people, the poor meekly following the bold colours of their parish banners into the field, walking in well-ordered columns and wearing their Sunday best and suitable grateful expressions, the rich driving their carriages through the throng and causing havoc among the horse-drawn wagons that were trying to deliver meat and pickles to the first arrivals. What with horses and marching columns, chattering crowds and squealing fiddles, the place was noisier than the Strand in high summer, and the stewards were having a hard time of it, trying to direct the new arrivals through loud-hailers which could barely be heard.
‘What sport!’ Caroline said. ‘Let’s find Will. He’ll be in the middle somewhere, because he promised. Come on!’ And she led them off between the tables.
‘She don’t stop to think,’ Bessie grumbled, but she limped after her young mistress as quickly as she could because she didn’t want to lose her in the throng. Not after what happened in that awful blizzard. ‘Stick to ‘er like glue, Euphemia,’ she called, and was relieved to see that Euphemia was clinging onto Caroline’s outflung hand.
And there was Will, looking very grand in his burgundy coat, with three of his friends leaping round him, all long legs and silly expressions, and her dear, sensible Jimmy behind them, talking to Edward, with his sisters clinging to his arms, and Matty sitting on a chair with her new parasol shading her pretty curls. Oh, thank heavens for that, they’re all here safely. Being put in charge of them all was a heavy responsibility.
‘Dear old Bessie,’ Will greeted her, stooping from his lovely height to kiss her cheek. ‘Ain’t this just the style? All brought about by the power of the press. What do you think of that, eh?’ And he turned to welcome Carrie and Euphemia.
He was bristling with excitement, thrilled by the enormity of their success, his thick hair bushing about his temples, his skin glowing with exertion and well-being, his eyes smiling and shining and the most startling blue, exactly the same colour as the sky behind his head and the forget-me-nots embroidered on his waistcoat. ‘What do you think of that?’ he repeated, beaming down at them.
‘You’re a clever old thing,’ Caroline said, flinging her arms about his neck to be kissed and swung about.
But Euphemia, who had received the full force of his triumphant masculinity, Euphemia couldn’t say a word. She suddenly found she was suffering from a most peculiar paralysis. Her throat was dry and her limbs were incapable of movement, but her senses felt as though they were being stretched, she was experiencing so much and so acutely: the starchy swirl of Caroline’s white skirt and Will’s hands holding her strongly about the waist; violins on the rotunda singing shrill as robins; the clatter of carriages and the reek of horses; the smell of warm new wool from Will’s beautiful burgundy jacket wafting out upon her as he turned; the hissing rustle of a passing petticoat somewhere behind her; voices and laughter and people munching; Will’s kiss, smacked against Caroline’s cheek, once, twice, three t
imes. Oh, what rapture to be kissed by Mr William Easter!
And then Jimmy and Matty were beside her, greeting her, and there was an onrush of Easters as they all set off to stroll around the promenade, and she found she could walk after all, and the moment was pushed aside by the activity of the afternoon.
By three o’clock, Caroline declared she was ‘just about ready to faint with hunger with all these people making pigs of themselves everywhere,’ so they all trouped off to the nearest inn for potted trout and veal cutlets washed down with ale or lemonade. And after that they followed the crowds to Midsummer Common for the rustic sports.
Although Euphemia had been to the theatre and the opera and lots of parties during the past year, because Will and Caroline treated her like a sister and took her with them everywhere they went, she had never seen an English summer fair before and was quite amazed by it. She was intrigued to watch grown men playing like children, bolting biscuits until they were apoplectic, or permitting their hands to be tied behind their backs and then struggling to eat apples suspended on a bobbing string, or pulling their faces into the most grotesque expressions they could manage while the crowd roared and shrieked encouragement. But when Will took his stand for the Town versus Gown tug-of-war she cheered with the best and was quite cast down when the locals finally hauled the students over the line.
They watched wheelbarrow races, that were fast and rough, and donkey races, that were haphazard and reluctant, and boys rooting in tubs of bran for the prize of a penny loaf and a tin of treacle. They tossed quoits over sticks and hurled wooden balls at coconuts and Jimmy won a little doll carved out of a clothes peg and gave it to Matty. And as the evening began to draw in, with a flourish of orange cloud under the darkening trees, they all ran over to the far side of the common to watch the renowned Mr Green of Vauxhall actually ascend into the air in a wicker basket suspended under a huge red and yellow balloon.
Sixpenny Stalls Page 8
