Recollections of Rosings

by Rebecca Ann Collins

  Aunt Becky was displeased; she said I had been disobliging and should

  have done it anyway because Lady Ashton had been kind enough to introduce

  us, which made me feel guilty, but I still did not think I wanted to sing before

  all those strange people.

  Oh Mama dear, it is such a bore. I am sorry to sound ungrateful, but

  many of the people I have met are very dull indeed. They have little to say

  that is of any interest to me, and if I were never to see them again in my life,

  I should not miss them at all! I do wish I could be back at Rosings!

  I must rush or we shall be late for the dressmaker and Aunt Becky will be

  cross. This is a very special gown for a special occasion, and Aunt Becky says

  it must be just right!

  I shall write again soon,

  Your loving daughter,

  Lilian.

  Catherine smiled as she folded the note and put it away.

  At least, she thought, she need have no anxiety at all that her daughter was becoming too attached to Becky's London friends and their expensive style of life. Lilian didn't sound as if she was enjoying it very much at all.

  Catherine wondered how much her young daughter knew of Mr Adams's intentions. She was sure Lilian must have some knowledge of it—a woman always knows, she thought, and as her mind played over it, she could not help recalling her own feelings as she had come gradually to an awareness of Mr Burnett's interest in her, all those years ago.

  End of Part Two

  RECOLLECTIONS OF ROSINGS

  Part Three

  Chapter Eight

  Lilian's introduction to Lady Isabel Ashton's social circle had not been entirely propitious.

  Not long after her arrival in London, her aunt Mrs Tate had arranged that they would call on her friend Lady Ashton, but had omitted to mention that Lady Ashton rarely rose before ten and never admitted callers until eleven or thereabouts.

  Which meant that Lilian had been dressed and ready since breakfast and, becoming somewhat impatient, had wandered back upstairs. There, in a little box room below the attic, she had discovered a veritable treasure trove of newspapers and journals from all over the globe, part of a hoard gathered by her aunt's husband, Mr Anthony Tate, on his travels. So numerous and varied were they, she had become completely immersed in them and had lost all sense of time.

  Mrs Tate, having searched everywhere for her niece, had finally sent a maid to look for her, and when she was located in the box room, Rebecca had made her displeasure quite clear.

  "Oh look, Lilian, not only are we going to be late for Lady Ashton, your morning gown is creased as well," she had complained and her mood was not improved by Lilian's offer to change her clothes.

  "I could wear the one I travelled in—it has been washed and pressed."

  "No, you could not, it would not do for you to be presented to Lady Ashton wearing an old travelling gown. Besides there is no time to change, never mind, the creases will probably fall out if you are careful not to crush it some more in the hansom cab."

  Lilian had made matters worse by suggesting that Lady Ashton would probably not even notice her gown, much less the creases in it, especially since she had only risen at ten and it was just gone eleven. This suggestion had further outraged her aunt.

  "Lady Ashton notices everything! And remember, you must not allude to her habit of rising late, it will be considered very rude to do so, since it is a purely private matter. And do speak up when she addresses you."

  Lilian, having promised to say very little and to speak very clearly, if at all, had thereafter maintained a stony silence, broken only when she was presented to Lady Ashton and they exchanged the most perfunctory of formal greetings.

  When Lady Ashton had barely looked at her and then proceeded to talk entirely to her aunt, Lilian had begun to wonder whether she would be expected to say anything at all. Sitting quietly with a cup of tea in one hand and a plate of cake on her lap, she had been surprised to hear Lady Ashton address a question to her from across the room.

  In fact, it was more in the nature of a declaration than a question.

  "Miss Harrison, I understand you play the pianoforte."

  Remembering her aunt's instructions, Lilian spoke up at once, clearly.

  "I do, ma'am," she replied, adding modestly, "but not particularly well."

  Lady Ashton ignored the latter part of her remark and asked again.

  "And you do sing, I suppose?" which prompted her aunt to say quickly, "Oh yes, Lady Ashton, she certainly does."

  "And have you learned to dance as well?" she persisted.

  To which Lilian replied, "I have, ma'am, but since the fire at Rosings and the death of my father, we have not attended…" She got no further with her explanation; clearly Lady Ashton had heard sufficient for her purposes.

  Turning to Mrs Tate, she said, "Then you can bring her along to my supper party on Thursday, Rebecca. There will be music and dancing afterwards, and we shall need all the young women we can muster—there are far too many men coming and they will all be looking for partners. If your niece can play, she will be useful, too. We could do with a second pair of hands at the pianoforte; my dear friend Miss Higgins gets rather tired keeping up with the dancers."

  Lady Ashton then proceeded to ignore Lilian again and began to discuss the guest list with Rebecca. She was pleased to declare that all of the gentlemen she had invited had accepted.

  "Of course, they all know my supper parties and are assured of an entertaining evening. My cousin Mr Armstrong is here for the season and has promised to bring along a couple of his friends, who are eager, he says, to be introduced into my circle of acquaintances. I am delighted of course, dear Becky, but it does mean we will be short of ladies to partner them. So young Miss Harrison is very welcome, if she can dance."

  After that, Lady Ashton had declared that she had an appointment with her French masseuse and swept up the stairs, leaving Rebecca and Lilian stranded amidst the debris of morning tea. When the servants came to clear the things away, they left and walked back through the park.

  All this had left Lilian feeling somewhat outré, like a visitor whom no one knows what to do with, she said in the letter she wrote to Mr Adams that afternoon.

  I am very confused by my aunt's friend, Lady Isabel Ashton. She is not a very young person and yet in her manner and clothes she affects the style of a woman in her twenties. Though she is quite a handsome woman, I am yet to decide whether she is really a "lady" in the polite sense of the term—I have seen no sign of it in our first encounter. She speaks with so much emphasis upon herself that it puts one in mind of an actress in a play. Mama has always said that ladies do not deliberately draw attention to themselves in company… For my part, I am nervous about being asked if I could play and sing. I do hope she does not expect me to perform for her visitors. I would not like that at all.

  The letter, written in the friendliest terms, proceeded to make polite enquiries about his family and when he expected to return to England, but made no mention of any special friendship that may or may not have existed between them. In that, Lilian was totally discreet, not wishing to embarrass Mr Adams in any way. Indeed, a casual reader who may have chanced upon the document may well have thought them no more than acquaintances.

  Using the services of a footman, while her aunt was resting upstairs, Lilian succeeded in getting the letter away to the post without Mrs Tate knowing about it. In that, at least, she had been successful.

  As for Lady Isabel Ashton's plans, they were quite another matter.

  Arriving at the house on the appointed day for Lady Ashton's supper party, it seemed to Lilian that not many of the ladies who had been invited had accepted with the same alacrity as the men, for there were but four other women in the room, apart from themselves and their hostess. At a glance, she thought there appeared to be at least double the number of men around.

  One of t
hem, surveying the company from the vantage point of a small raised stage, clearly a place prepared for the musicians, seemed to be a rather superior sort of person—dressed as he was in the very latest fashion. On catching sight of Lilian and her aunt, he appeared to survey them, too, before coming down from his elevated position and approaching Lady Ashton, who happened to be engaged in conversation at the centre of the room. Lilian noticed the said gentleman draw Lady Ashton's attention to them as they stood just inside the doors of the large room, and then both he and Lady Ashton came forward to meet them.

  Lady Ashton greeted Rebecca effusively and then, turning to the gentleman, said, "Josh, this is my dear friend Mrs Tate—her husband is in newspapers and things," then waving a hand in Lilian's direction, added almost as an afterthought, "and this is her niece—what was your name, dear? I did not quite hear it when we last met."

  "Lilian," said Lilian, more than a little piqued at this discourtesy. "Lilian Harrison," she declared again, more clearly than before, lest the gentleman happened to be hard of hearing, too.

  The superior-looking gentleman, who turned out to be Lady Ashton's cousin, Joshua Armstrong, said, "Lilian," and said it again, in a manner that suggested he had never heard such a name before, but then went on to say in a pleasant sort of voice, "May I say, Miss Lilian, how very pleased I am to meet you."

  At this both Lady Ashton and Mrs Tate beamed at one another, as though it was exactly what they had hoped to hear.

  "There you are, Josh will look after you," said Lady Ashton as she turned away, leaving Lilian to take the gentleman's arm and accompany him across the room, which had clearly been made ready for dancing.

  "You must meet my friends," he said and made for a corner of the room where several young men stood around drinking wine and talking volubly about nothing in particular. Two of them detached themselves from the group and were introduced to her as Mr Nigel Vanstone and Mr Percival St John.

  "Miss Harrison, these gentlemen are my very good friends," said Mr Armstrong. "They are delighted to meet you, I'm sure."

  His friends turned out to be even more superior in dress and manner than Josh—and sporting luxuriant moustaches, they made Lilian giggle when they bowed exaggeratedly low over her hand to kiss it and declared that they were "charmed" and "delighted," indeed. She could not imagine what she would say to either of them and prayed she would not have to enter into conversation with them.

  As it happened, the musicians came out soon afterwards, and she found herself almost constantly engaged to dance with either Josh or one of his friends, who were all very superior dancers. While Lilian quite liked dancing, so tired was she with being engaged for almost every dance, that when supper was served, she sat down with relief beside a kindly looking middle-aged woman, who smiled at her.

  The lady was French, a Madame du Valle, visiting from Paris. Her English was not much more than passable, which meant she preferred to concentrate upon her food, and Lilian was pleased to have a genuine reason for not entering into too much conversation. After they had commented upon the weather and the music, Madame returned to her supper, for which relief Lilian was grateful indeed.

  At the end of the evening, everyone stood in line to tell Lady Ashton how very enjoyable the party had been. Her Ladyship, flattered by their praise, was clearly convinced that the occasion had been a huge success, yet Lilian could take very little satisfaction from it.

  When they returned home, her aunt was keen to discover if she had enjoyed herself.

  "Well, Lilian my dear, was that not a great evening's entertainment? And so many personable young gentlemen, too!" she remarked and Lilian, not wishing to appear ungrateful, agreed that it had been an entertaining evening.

  But not even Rebecca's best efforts could coax her into acknowledging that any of the young men she had met at the party had made a favourable impression upon her. She had spoken very little to anyone, and though her partners had danced with vigour, none of them had appeared to have anything to say that was in the least interesting.

  Her aunt was more enthusiastic. "But, Lilian dear, were they not most attentive? You danced almost every dance; you were never left sitting out alone. Most young women I know would have been honoured by such attention."

  Lilian tried hard not to give offence. "Aunt Becky, of course I was pleased to be asked to dance—it would have been unbearable to have had nothing to do all evening. But none of the gentlemen who danced with me had anything at all to say, unless it was about the races or some other party they had attended. Since I knew nothing of either matter, we had little that was worthwhile to speak of."

  "My goodness, Lilian, you must not expect to have intellectual discussions with everyone you meet. You will soon become known as a blue stocking if you do," warned her aunt, and Lilian had to bite back the riposte that was on the tip of her tongue, that she would rather be known as a blue stocking than a simpleton. Conscious of her aunt's feelings and not wishing to hurt them, she said nothing.

  Begging to be excused on account of being tired, Lilian went up to her room. She had no wish to distress her aunt, who was clearly trying to persuade her that London society, and especially the circle of her friend Lady Ashton, was worth cultivating. Lilian was unconvinced.

  Writing to her mother, she could not have made her opinion clearer.

  I think you would have found them dull, too, Mama, because apart from the races and clubs, they have very little conversation. They neither read nor play any instrument and have little interest in anything or anyone who is not part of their own circle of county gentlemen and their families.

  Nor did they seem at all keen to discover anything at all about me, except to ask if I was Lady Ashton's niece or cousin. When I said, No, I was only an acquaintance visiting from the country, they lost interest and talked about the weather or the races again.

  I think I must have told at least half a dozen of them that if one was to speak of the weather, then Kent was far pleasanter than London in the Spring and a good deal prettier. Needless to say, this was considered absolute heresy! Poor Aunt Becky, I cannot imagine what she sees in them. I know she is so much cleverer than any of them—she must understand how silly and ignorant they are—yet she makes out that she enjoys their company and praises them to me. I cannot make it out, Mama.

  Clearly, Lilian was unimpressed.

  It was therefore not surprising that she prepared to attend the next function at Lady Ashton's house with little enthusiasm. Her aunt had insisted on having her fitted out with a new, more fashionable gown and persuaded her to let her own personal maid style her hair, making her look somewhat more grown-up than on previous occasions.

  Looking at herself in the mirror, Lilian was not altogether unhappy with what she saw. She rather wished Mr Adams could have seen her and wondered idly what he might think of her in her elegant new gown.

  Mrs Tate felt a sense of responsibility for her niece but seemed blind to her sensibilities and wishes. So determined was she to wean Lilian away from what she deemed to be an inappropriate attachment to Mr John Adams, she seemed not to realise that Lilian had gained little pleasure from the company of the suave but feckless young men of Lady Ashton's circle. She put her discomfort down to her lack of experience of society functions, where small talk rather than sensible conversation was the key to amusement. Lilian, Becky knew, was deficient in these social skills, but she was certain her niece would soon learn to enjoy herself, just as she had done.

  On this occasion, the party turned out to be much larger and the guests more diverse than they had expected. In addition to Lady Ashton's usual circle of friends, there were several young and some rather older men in regimental uniform, adding a splash of colour and quite a lot of gaiety to the proceedings.

  Lilian, who had had very little knowledge of the military, was not in a position to be impressed by any of them, since she could scarcely distinguish between a captain and a colonel. When introduced to one or two of them, she smiled and tried to be agre
eable, preparing herself to be bored by their usual line of conversation.

  She was, however, completely unprepared for their boldness, which she found disconcerting and occasionally bordering upon effrontery. Her unfamiliarity with such behaviour made her somewhat uncomfortable.

  Seeing Mr Joshua Armstrong on the far side of the room, she smiled and wished he would come over and speak with her; at least she knew him a little better than these military gentlemen. But he appeared to be otherwise engaged. Sitting in a small circle with one or two ladies, observed closely by several of the officers, Lilian's discomposure increased as she became conscious of their looks.

  The dress her aunt had had made for her was cut lower and fitted more closely than anything she had worn before, and Lilian, feeling their eyes upon her, pulled her silk shawl around her shoulders. She was on the point of rising from her chair and making her way across to where she could see her aunt in conversation with some ladies, when a very tall man, who had been introduced to her as Captain Hastings, appeared in front of her, bowed low, and asked if he might have the honour of the next dance. So relieved was she, she accepted his invitation without a second thought, and ignoring the undercurrent of laughter from the knot of officers around the circle, she let him lead her to the floor. When the music began, she realised she had been asked to dance the European waltz. Although she knew the dance, it was not one she had danced often; there were not many gentlemen at country dances who had mastered the Viennese waltz.