by Janet Aylmer
“Not far to go now, Miss,” confided Martha, who had seen the directions to Morancourt given by Mr. Hatton, “only about three miles.”
“Over there on the right is the Greyhound Inn, behind the market cross, Julia,” said Aunt Lucy. “I will ask the coachman to fetch us all a glass of cordial. My throat is very parched.”
The cool liquid was very welcome and, as soon as the tray and the glasses had been returned to the inn, the carriage set off on its way out of the square on the last stage of their journey.
Once they had left the edge of the town, the carriage plunged into yet another lane deeply set between the field boundaries on each side. Passing only the occasional cottage alongside the track, the surface was uneven and the route twisted and turned, up and down, until at last the wheels came to a stop. Julia looked out of the carriage window to see two tall old stone pillars framing a pair of worn wooden gates, with a thatched cottage on one side. The coachman got down from his perch and walked forwards to speak to someone standing by the gates, and slowly they were opened to let the carriage through.
To her surprise, they stopped on the far side, and a familiar voice could be heard speaking to the coachman. Then Mr. Hatton walked across to the carriage window.
“Mrs. Harrison, Miss Maitland, welcome to Morancourt! You have made very good time today,” He smiled at Julia through the window. “I will ride ahead now, but you will see the manor house on the left as you go down the drive.”
She could hear the clatter of the stirrups as he mounted his horse, and the sound of the hooves on the gravel, before the carriage lurched again into motion along the drive.
After a short interval, they negotiated a bend and there beyond was the house set back behind a rough lawn. On one side, the steep roof was thatched over old stone gables, with the walls pierced by wide mullioned timber windows at ground- and upper-floor levels. On the other side, in a wing three storeys’ high of more recent date, the stone lintols were intricately carved over tall windows set into deep reveals in the walls above wide stone sills. The front door was set in a porch between the two wings, with a worn stone coat of arms just visible above the entrance. The low garden walls on each side of the house were almost invisible, buried in a tangle of flowers and shrubs. Behind them, there were glimpses of parkland through trellis arches and a fence woven from tree branches.
Once the carriage had stopped moving, Aunt Lucy eased herself with relief up from her seat and, helped by a footman, descended rather unsteadily down the carriage steps. Julia, followed by Martha, joined her at the front door, where Mr. Hatton was waiting for them with another footman standing beside him.
“Please come in, ladies,” he said. He showed his guests into the hall, where the staff was lined up to greet them. He introduced the first as Mrs. Jones, his godmother’s housekeeper, who asked one of the footmen to take their trunks upstairs. Then she led Aunt Lucy and Julia into the drawing room, where refreshments awaited them. Her aunt settled herself into a comfortable chair and engaged the housekeeper in conversation.
Meanwhile, Julia sat beside Mr. Hatton on the settee, and she took the opportunity to look around her. The drawing room was spacious and well lit, with carefully polished furniture against the walls and rather faded curtains at the windows. Every table and bookcase was covered with items of china and silverware, as well as other ornaments, many with elaborate detail and highly coloured.
“Your godmother collected ornamental items, Mr. Hatton?” she said.
“Yes. As you can see, there is no shortage of such objects, either here or in any of the other living rooms. I’m not sure that much of it is to my taste, but perhaps that is the difference between the generations. Do you think that your aunt will see anything that she would like?”
“Well, her taste is not the same as mine, either, but I’m sure that for sentimental reasons she will be able to choose something to remember your godmother by. Are there any items that you yourself will want to retain?“
“No. I will not decide whether to keep anything until her friends have chosen what they want. Then I will make up my mind whether I like what remains. I suppose it depends to some extent on how I will redecorate and furnish the house.”
“Is this room typical of the condition elsewhere?”
“No—it is rather better than many of the other rooms. That is because in her last years my godmother lived only in this room and the salon adjoining, as she could not manage the stairs. Mrs. Jones made sure that these two rooms were well kept.”
By this time Aunt Lucy had finished her refreshments, and Mr. Hatton invited them both to walk with him through the rest of the ground floor. As he had told Julia, some of the rooms were badly in need of attention. She asked her host if she might see the kitchen. Mrs. Jones, who was accompanying them, looked embarrassed, but Mr. Hatton said, “Yes, Miss Maitland, of course. I’m sure that you will understand that Mrs. Jones has done her best under rather difficult circumstances.”
Mrs. Jones still looked reluctant, but led the way down a narrow passageway to the kitchen and pantry, which, although clean and tidy, were badly in need of renovation and redecoration. There seemed to be a shortage of storage space and the floor looked to be in need of attention. Mrs. Jones seemed to be very relieved when she was able to usher them back towards the entrance hall. There, she suggested that the ladies might like to go to their rooms to refresh themselves and to supervise the unpacking of their trunks. Aunt Lucy and Julia were happy to go along with this suggestion.
The two bedrooms, side by side, faced over the rear garden, with views for some distance up a long grassy expanse towards a ridge on the hill beyond. Aunt Lucy was disappointed not to find toys in the cupboard in her room, but Julia pointed out that the nurseries were most likely to be on the top floor above them.
Julia’s room was furnished with elegant if outdated furniture of the character appropriate for a lady’s boudoir. The drapes around the bed were a faded pink brocade hung on a mahogany frame. On the walls were several pictures, including one of a very handsome lady whom Julia guessed might be the late Mrs. Hatton. There were several ornamental items on a mahogany chest in the corner of the room, and a matching mahogany wardrobe beside it.
Martha had unpacked the trunk and was hanging the clothes in the wardrobe. After changing her dress, Julia went along the corridor to find Aunt Lucy and they descended the stairs together to the dining room. There they enjoyed a pleasant meal in the company of Mr. Hatton, who told them more about the history of the house and its occupants.
The following morning, Aunt Lucy asked Mr. Hatton to show them the room where the children’s toys had been kept in the cupboard. They were mostly made of wood, each one carefully carved, including a Noah’s Ark with numerous pairs of animals finished in many colours, a miniature painted rocking horse, and a large dolls’ house fully furnished throughout that contained some rather worn rag dolls. Aunt Lucy reminisced nostalgically about her own childhood, when she and her younger sister, Julia’s mother, had played with very similar toys in their own nursery.
Julia’s eyes met those of Mr. Hatton above her aunt’s head, and they exchanged a smile. Indeed, it was with some difficulty that the young people persuaded her aunt to move on to the rest of the house.
“I suggest, Mrs. Harrison, that you might like to inspect the items in the rooms with your niece at more leisure, and see if there is anything that would take your fancy.”
For the next two hours, Julia followed her aunt around the ground-floor rooms, and then around the bedrooms above where there were also many items of interest. At her aunt’s request, she made a list as they went, enumerating those objects that caught her fancy. After a while, Mr. Hatton sensibly left them to their search, as the notes on Julia’s paper grew longer and more detailed. Eventually, they returned to the ground floor, and her aunt sat on the drawing room settee beside Julia, and they went through the list again.
“I have decided,” said Aunt Lucy at last, “I would like
to have one of the children’s toys from the nursery, the carved miniature rocking horse with the dark blue saddle!”
As her aunt had lingered for a long time looking at the toy cupboard, this did not come as a great surprise to Julia, though she did not say so.
At that moment, Mrs. Jones entered, followed by Mr. Hatton, with the offer of tea or coffee to enable her aunt to recover from her exertions.
“Do not let me be so selfish as to detain you whilst I have my tea, Mr. Hatton, for you said that you would like to take Julia around the house to discuss your ideas for redecorations. Perhaps this is a good moment?”
He agreed. “If you do not object, Mrs. Harrison, as Miss Maitland may have some suggestions for suitable colours that I might consider.”
Mr. Hatton took Julia down a step between the old and newer parts of the building into the dining room, which Julia thought was rather dark and oppressive. It seemed to be north-facing, and all the furniture was a very sombre brown.
“I thought perhaps a pale green on the walls in this room, Miss Maitland. It needs a lighter colour, don’t you think?”
“I agree. But perhaps picking out the cornice and picture rail with a certain amount of gold?”
He looked doubtful, until she led him over to one of the picture frames that was in just that combination of colours, and contrasted it with another where only the green had been used. Then he acknowledged that she was right.
“We do have a library here in the house, Miss Maitland. Would you like to see that?”
“Of course, for I must not allow my bookish reputation to lapse, sir, you must agree!”
He laughed, remembering their conversation at Norton Place, and led the way through the house to a long room beside the front door.
It was again rather dark and gloomy, with wood panelling on the walls, but especially because the thick curtains were drawn across the windows. A large quantity of dust billowed out into the room as Mr. Hatton pulled one back from the glass, causing him to cough and Julia to draw back in mock alarm.
“I do apologise, Miss Maitland—this room has not been the first priority for Mrs. Jones. I will ask her to attend to it soon. Now, there is something in this room that you may recognise. Please look around you.”
He can’t mean a book, thought Julia, for there were so many on the shelves on every side, and the titles were difficult to read in the half light, so it must be elsewhere.
He waited as she turned around, scanning the walls, and then back, up and down, until at last she cried out in recognition.
“La Passerelle!” she exclaimed, looking up at a framed drawing hanging close to the door. It showed what seemed to be a stone wall on each side, with an arch between them bridging the gap, and two figures apparently walking over the divide.
“During your stay here, I will show you where that is situated in the park,” he said.
At that moment, they were interrupted by a crash, followed by a dreadful cry of pain, and the sound of running feet. They both turned in alarm and made their way quickly in the direction of the sound. They were met by Mrs. Jones rushing towards them.
“Sir! Miss! Mrs. Harrison has fallen down the step into the dining-room, and her ankle—she is in great pain!”
They found Aunt Lucy lying on the floor below the step, clutching her ankle, which was twisted away from her leg.
Mr. Hatton was immediately decisive. “Mrs. Jones, please tell one of the grooms to ride to Beaminster immediately, to fetch Dr. Bulman, and bring him here directly.”
She ran to the front door as Mr. Hatton called to the footman to help him move Aunt Lucy to a chair in the drawing room, whilst Julia found a housemaid and asked her for a cold compress to apply to the ankle until the doctor came. Her aunt was looking very pale, and Julia was not happy with the way the ankle, now resting on a stool, was swelling up to much larger than its normal size even as she watched. She asked the housemaid for a glass of brandy for her aunt, which Mrs. Jones brought with a message that the groom had left for Beaminster as instructed.
Aunt Lucy tried to refuse the brandy, but Mr. Hatton and Julia insisted, and she lay back on the cushions as Julia held her hand to comfort her. Within the hour, the groom returned, closely followed by Dr. Bulman.
Mr. Hatton and Julia withdrew, and waited outside whilst the doctor examined his patient. After about ten minutes, he came out to speak to them in the hall.
“I understand that you are Mrs. Harrison’s niece, Miss Maitland? Fortunately, the ankle is not broken, but it is badly twisted and sprained, so your aunt must rest and not walk on it for at least a week.” Turning, he said, “I hope that Mrs. Harrison’s remaining here for that length of time is no problem, Mr. Hatton?”
“Of course not, she is welcome for as long as it takes for her to recover.”
“Then I will return in a few days’ time to see how she does. But Mrs. Harrison should not plan to go home until at least next week.” And doffing his hat to Julia, and shaking Mr. Hatton’s hand, he went out through the front door and rode away.
They found Aunt Lucy in the drawing room, with her ankle tightly bandaged, and sufficiently better to be deeply apologetic about the trouble that she was causing to her host.
He brushed her protestations aside, assuring her that his servants would be only too pleased to be kept busy looking after Mrs. Harrison. He added that he would be happy to keep Miss Maitland company until Mrs. Harrison was sufficiently recovered to join them.
Her aunt agreed readily to this suggestion and was soon settled in the drawing room with refreshments and books to hand, Mrs. Jones and Martha sitting near her, and a bell at her elbow ready to summon help whenever she needed attention.
“Now, Miss Maitland,” said Mr. Hatton, “we have the opportunity to do whatever you wish during the next few days. Do you have any preferences?”
“That is a very wide invitation, sir,” she said, smiling. “As the weather is looking rather grey now, perhaps we should stay indoors this afternoon, and that would also enable me to keep an eye on my aunt to make sure that she is not trying to walk anywhere for the moment.”
“But of course, that is a very practical suggestion and I agree that we should not go too far for the next day or two.”
“Then may I see your ballroom now, Mr. Hatton?” she said, remembering their conversation in the Assembly Rooms at Bath.
“Of course. Please come this way.” And he led Julia across the house to a pair of handsome panelled doors set in a recess at the side of the entrance hall. As he pushed them, the hinges creaked and it took all his strength to open the doors.
“I can see that there is a job to be done on these,” he said ruefully, as he held one of the doors aside for her to enter the room.
She looked around her and, as he had said, the ballroom was not large; perhaps big enough for about forty people including about half that number dancing in the centre. As with the library, the tall windows were covered by faded drapes keeping out the light and giving the room a rather depressing air.
As though reading her mind, Mr. Hatton said, “This room needs quite a lot done to it, don’t you think? But it could be quite delightful with lighter colours on the walls and new curtains on the windows.”
Julia agreed. They went across together and pulled some of the drapes away from the windows. Despite the greyish light outside, the ballroom immediately took on a more pleasant aspect.
“Perhaps, when we know each other better, Miss Maitland, you may allow me, with your aunt’s permission, to teach you how to dance the waltz?”
Julia hesitated for some few seconds before replying. “It is not, sir, that I do not wish to dance with you, but that particular dance—I believe that I would prefer us to be better acquainted before you show me how we should do the steps together.”
There was a long silence before he spoke again, and she expected him to disagree with her, but he did not.
“Let us make a pact then, Miss Maitland. When I know you better, and wh
en I have your aunt’s permission to call you by your Christian name, then shall we dance the waltz?”
It was with such relief that Julia considered his answer. It was so pleasant, first, to contemplate having the time to get to know Mr. Hatton better than she did now and, second, that they might be on intimate enough terms that he could use her own name.
“Mr. Hatton, the only thing that really worries me at this moment is that something is going to prevent either of us doing as we wish in the future. But I suppose that I should stand back from that idea, and enjoy the opportunities during the next few days.”
“Thank you for that. Now, perhaps we should go and see how your aunt is faring with Mrs. Jones to look after her.”
As they walked back across the house, Julia asked him, “Are you enjoying being the owner of a large house, Mr. Hatton?”
“I’m not sure yet, Miss Maitland. I had absolutely no idea, you see, until after Mrs. Hatton’s death that I was to inherit the house and the land attached to it. Indeed, my godmother’s attorney told me that, until two years ago, the estate was to go to her nephew by marriage. He was the son of her husband Henry’s younger brother, but he died young, and he was the last in that family line.”
