Two days later, they packed their last bits and pieces into the Standard and set out for Somerset. It was chilly in the late afternoon of a dull December day when they arrived in Wynsdown, cold and tired. As they turned into the manor’s driveway, Felix pipped the horn and Marjorie emerged to greet them.
‘Welcome home,’ she said as she kissed Daphne’s cheek and then gave Felix a hug. ‘I hope you’ll be as happy here as your father and I were.’
‘I’m sure we will, Mother,’ Felix said, returning her hug.
Daphne said nothing, simply walked through into the drawing room, where a fire snapped and crackled in the hearth, offering welcome warmth after the cold of the December afternoon outside. She took off her coat and dropped it onto an armchair before turning to face her mother-in-law who had followed her in. ‘At least it’s warm in here,’ she remarked, and crossed to the fireplace to hold out her hands to the flames.
‘You must be dying for a cup of tea,’ Marjorie said. ‘The kettle’s on the boil, I’ll just go and make some.’
Felix carried the tray into the drawing room and they all sat by the fire, drinking their tea and eating slabs of cake, left by Mrs Darby.
‘A warm house and a cup of tea,’ sighed Felix. ‘Nothing better.’
‘Mrs Darby’s left you a cottage pie in the kitchen, too,’ Marjorie said. ‘All you need to do is pop it in the oven and it’ll be ready for your supper whenever you want it.’ She put down her cup and got to her feet. ‘Well, I’ll leave you to it,’ she said, and went out into the hall. Taking her coat from the stand she shrugged it on. ‘I had your trunks put upstairs when they arrived and I’m sure you’ll want to get settled.’
‘Mother, you don’t have to go?’ protested Felix.
‘Yes, Felix, I do. I’ve got a pie for the oven too, and you and Daphne’ll want your first night here to yourselves.’
‘Well, at least let me walk you back to Eden Lodge,’ Felix said.
‘No, I’ll be fine,’ Marjorie said, but Felix insisted and together they set off down the drive.
Daphne closed the front door behind them and stood for a moment in the silence of the hall and as she did so, the house seemed to sigh and settle round her. A sudden vision of her childhood home assailed her, rough, cramped and ugly. How squalid it seemed; life lived in the kitchen, no hot water, outdoor privy in the small backyard. She shook her head to dispel the thought and looked round the hallway of her new home; doors opening to dining room, study, drawing room. She had a drawing room! The thought made her laugh out loud. No real servants as she’d first imagined, she knew that now, but she assumed that Mrs Darby and Mrs Gurney would still be employed as they had been before. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad living here, after all.
There were rooms she hadn’t seen on her previous visits and now it all belonged to her, she wanted to take possession of it, explore it, discover it on her own. She decided to make a tour of the rest of the house before Felix got back. She was already familiar with the downstairs rooms so, deciding to start upstairs, she climbed the carved oak staircase to the first floor. The door to the bedroom she and Felix had occupied before stood open, and going into the room she found it warm and welcoming, ready for occupation. A fire smouldered in the hearth, the green velvet curtains were drawn and a bedside lamp shed warm, yellow light onto the bed, ready made up, where the clothes had been turned invitingly back.
The two trunks they’d sent down ahead of them were standing in a corner, but Daphne wasn’t interested in them or their contents; plenty of time to unpack those. All the time in the world.
Further along the landing she came to Marjorie’s bedroom, a room she’d never entered before. Now she flung open its door, and switching on the lights, stepped inside. She found herself in a large, almost empty room. The curtains at the bay window stood open to the darkening sky and the dank winter garden spread out below. It was cold. There was a fireplace, but no fire, laid or lit. A heavy mahogany wardrobe stood against one wall, and standing in the middle of the room was a large wooden bedstead, a pile of blankets, neatly folded, on the bare mattress; apart from a large Turkey rug providing an island of softness in an otherwise austere room, there was no furniture at all.
Daphne stared round angrily. This is the main bedroom, she thought. This should be our bedroom. Where’s all the furniture? There must have been more than this! His wretched mother’s taken it with her! So what are we supposed to use?
She marched across to the wardrobe and threw open the doors. Apart from a few wooden coat-hangers that rattled together as they were disturbed, it contained nothing.
She went out onto the landing again, going from room to room. There were four more bedrooms, one of which had been Felix’s as a child, another the blue guest room where James and Freda had slept when they came for the funeral, and two others, furnished but clearly disused. At the far end of the passage were narrow back stairs leading down to the kitchen and a door, behind which Daphne discovered a further flight of steep wooden stairs, leading to three tiny bedrooms in the roof: the servants’ rooms, unused for years, dusty and festooned with cobwebs.
By the time Felix got home again, she had been into every room in the house including the kitchen, the scullery and the huge walk-in pantry. There she had found the pie Marjorie had mentioned, and some cabbage, chopped and ready to cook. She left them where they were.
Finished with her exploration Daphne was sitting by the drawing-room fire with her feet up when Felix came in.
‘She’s taken the furniture from the bedroom,’ she said as soon as he came in through the door.
‘What?’ Felix looked confused.
‘Your mother! She’s taken the bedroom furniture!’
‘Well, it’s hers,’ said Felix mildly.
‘So what do we use, then?’ demanded Daphne. She had been thinking about the almost empty bedroom for the past half-hour and was spoiling for a fight.
‘There’s plenty more furniture in the house,’ Felix said as he dropped into the armchair on the opposite side of the hearth. ‘We’ll just move it around a bit.’ He looked across at her angry face and hoping to change the subject asked, ‘Did you put the pie in the oven?’
‘No!’ snapped Daphne, who hadn’t finished fighting yet.
‘Never mind,’ Felix said easily. ‘I’ll go and put it in.’ He waved towards a small trolley standing in the corner of the room. ‘Why don’t you pour us each a drink? I think we’ve earned one.’
Later, as they lay in bed in the warm bedroom prepared for them, Felix slipped an arm round her, one hand cupping her breast, the other gently massaging her bottom.
‘No, Felix. Not now!’ Daphne pulled away from him. ‘It’s the wrong time of the month.’
Felix withdrew his hand and sighed. ‘Pity,’ he said. ‘You should always make love on the first night in a new house.’
‘It’s not exactly new to either of us, is it?’ Daphne replied.
‘No,’ Felix conceded, ‘but we’ve never made love here. I do love you, Daphne.’ He pulled her close against him, nuzzling the back of her neck. ‘Let’s just have a cuddle, then.’
Daphne sighed and relaxed against him. She could feel his erection against her back and felt guilty for her lie. ‘Only a couple of days,’ she said, ‘then I’ll be fine.’
20
‘I thought you might like to come over to me for Christmas Day itself,’ Marjorie suggested a few days later over a cup of coffee. ‘I’m all settled in now, I’ve even got a Christmas tree.’
‘Wouldn’t you rather to come to us, Mother?’ asked Felix, surprised at her suggestion.
‘No, not really, darling,’ she said. ‘The last few Christmases it was just Dad and me at the manor. I think I’d rather do something quite different this year.’ She turned to Daphne who, for the first time, had come with Felix to visit her at Eden Lodge. ‘Would you like to cook the Christmas dinner, Daphne, or shall I ask Mrs Darby to come in? I don’t think she’ll mind just for an hour or s
o.’
‘To cook what?’ Daphne sounded very apprehensive. While they’d been in London, she and Felix had been living on a diet of chops and sausages, fried fish, liver, eggs and bacon. She could manage the basics, dishes she’d watched her mother make over the years, but her family’s Christmas dinners had been whatever the butcher could supply, cheap cuts, cooked long and slow in the oven.
‘I’ve got a chicken coming up from Home Farm,’ answered Marjorie. ‘Hope you don’t mind, Felix, I asked Donny Day to kill one. Mrs Darby’s going to pluck and draw it for us, but I thought Daphne might want to do the cooking.’
‘No,’ Daphne spoke firmly. ‘Ask Mrs Darby.’
She had been more than a little annoyed when Felix had told her that Mrs Darby was going to continue working for his mother.
‘But I can’t cook!’ she exclaimed. ‘I’m a hopeless cook.’
‘Mother needs her and anyway, we can’t afford her.’ He grinned reassuringly at Daphne’s horrified expression. ‘And you can cook, you know you can, and now we’re living in the country, you’ll find far more food available than in town. We’ve eggs from Home Farm and grow our own vegetables, don’t forget, so there’s usually something extra to bring to the table.’
When they had first arrived, Felix had also decided that they could dispense with the services of Mrs Gurney.
‘You should continue to employ her, Felix,’ Marjorie said. ‘I don’t need her more than twice a week in this little house, so I’m sure she’ll be glad to come to you at the manor the other three days. Otherwise she’ll miss the money.’
‘I’m not a charitable trust, Mother,’ stated Felix. ‘I’m sorry if she’ll be missing some of her money, but I can’t afford to be giving her any of mine!’
‘I know,’ Marjorie said soothingly, ‘but it’s a big house for Daphne to run on her own, you know. I couldn’t manage it on my own, remember.’
It was the first time that Daphne had ever felt gratitude to her mother-in-law when, after further discussion, Felix relented and they finally agreed that Mavis Gurney should come two days to each house.
The first morning she arrived, she walked in through the back door, hanging her coat on a hook and shedding galoshes on the scullery floor as she shouted, ‘Morning, Mrs Felix.’
Daphne, who had not yet met her, came into the kitchen and found herself facing a tall woman, her ample bosom constrained in a cross-over apron, her hair tied up in what looked like a yellow duster. Broad-shouldered, her large forearms tapered to rough, capable hands. She stood, hands on hips, in the scullery doorway.
Daphne stared at her uncertainly. ‘Mrs Gurney?’
‘’S right,’ she said. ‘I’ll get on with what I usually do, shall I?’ Her expression darkened as she added, ‘Course, now you cut me hours, I won’t get as much done as what I used, but I ’spect you’ll be able to pick up what’s left.’
‘And—’ Daphne was horrified to hear her voice come out as a squeak. She cleared her throat and started again. ‘And what is it that you usually do?’
‘Four hours a day. I go home at one for me dinner.’
‘And the afternoons?’
Mrs Gurney folded her arms and raised her chin. ‘I don’t do afternoons.’
Trying not to be intimidated, Daphne said, ‘And you do what, in those hours?’
‘Mondays, I light the fire under the copper an’ put the wash on. Get it hung out if the weather’s kind. Clear the fireplaces, bring in the coal. Clean the kitchen and the scullery. Dust the hall and drawin’ room. Bring in the washing before I leave. Tuesdays, well now, Tuesdays I ain’t comin’ no more. Going to Mrs Bellinger at Eden Lodge. Wednesday I’ll do the upstairs and give the kitchen a quick once-over. That suit?’ This last was posed as a question, but Daphne could see that it wasn’t. Mrs Gurney had stated her terms, thinking that the new Mrs Felix would agree to anything to keep her.
‘Sounds fine,’ she said faintly. Then, giving herself a mental shake she asked, ‘What did you normally do the rest of the week?’
Mavis Gurney looked thoughtful for a moment and then said, ‘Tuesdays was ironing and cleaning silver. Thursdays was windows an’ floors. Fridays change the beds and if guests was coming prepare the guest rooms and then whisk right through the house ready for the weekend.’
‘I see,’ Daphne said and then added, ‘Where will you start today?’
‘Today’s Wednesday, so upstairs and spruce the kitchen.’
‘The thing is, Mrs Gurney,’ Daphne said, ‘we’re only using one room upstairs just now, so perhaps when you’ve done our room and the bathroom you could come down and do the drawing room today, as well as the kitchen.’
Mrs Gurney pursed her lips. ‘Suppose I could,’ she said grudgingly, ‘just this once. I don’t like having me routine changed.’ The two women stared at each other for several moments and to her own surprise it was Mavis who turned away, saying, ‘I better get on, then.’
Daphne left her to it and went into the study to find pencil and paper. She sat down and made a list of all the things Mrs Gurney was supposed to do on a Monday and Wednesday and another list of things she said she used to do on the other days.
When he came in for lunch, she showed them to Felix. ‘I don’t know what she used to do when, but it looks to me as if she’s picked the jobs she doesn’t mind doing and left me the others, the ones she doesn’t like. Ironing, cleaning windows, scrubbing floors, polishing the silver.’
‘Well, you’re employing her to do what you want done, not what she wants to do,’ pointed out Felix. ‘So, you tell her. Let’s face it, Daph, it’s no different to dealing with an insubordinate aircraftswoman, and you used to do that with your eyes shut. Have a chat with Mother and see what she says Mavis is supposed to do.’
‘She says it’s cos we’ve cut her hours.’
‘Call her bluff and tell her we’ll cut them some more if she doesn’t do what she’s asked.’
‘Suppose she calls our bluff?’ Daphne said.
‘She won’t, but if she does, well, we’ll deal with that when the time comes.’
Christmas Day, falling on a Sunday, meant that Mrs Gurney was not due to put in another appearance at the manor until the following week. Daphne did as Felix suggested and went to see Marjorie.
‘Mrs Gurney isn’t the easiest,’ Marjorie said with a wry smile. ‘She was here this morning and I had to listen to her moaning about the shorter hours. But actually, she’s a good worker and she gets things done. Stand your ground, Daphne, tell her what you want her to do. She can’t afford to lose the job. Stick to what you want, but make a few concessions so that she thinks she’s got the better of you, and you’ll get on fine.’
Daphne knew it was good advice and she intended to take it when Mavis Gurney arrived the next Wednesday.
*
The following morning, Felix walked over to Charing Farm to retrieve his horses. John Shepherd greeted him cheerfully as he walked into the stable yard.
‘Felix!’ he cried. ‘Good to see you. I heard you’d arrived. Settling in all right?’
The two men shook hands and John led the way into the stables. When he opened the door the horses looked out with interest from their loose boxes. Felix crossed at once to Archie, his hunter, who whickered a welcome. ‘Hallo, boy,’ he said, gently stroking his nose. ‘I’ve come to take you home.’
‘The local hunt’s meeting here on Boxing Day,’ Felix told Daphne that evening. ‘John and Billy Shepherd will be going and I thought I’d ride out on Archie, give him a run.’
‘I thought you were going to sell the horses... since we’re “economising”.’
‘I shall sell Dad’s if I can find a buyer,’ Felix said, ‘but I’ll keep Archie.’
‘Just so you can go hunting, I suppose,’ sniffed Daphne.
‘No. Well, that too,’ conceded Felix, ‘but actually, I’ll be riding him round the estate.’ He smiled. ‘We’ll both enjoy the exercise and it means I shan’t need to use the car so
much. We can save our petrol, so you’ll be able to use the car yourself if you need to.’
That’s more like it, Daphne thought. If keeping the horse meant that she was going to be able to use the car more often, she wasn’t going to argue. She’d found an old bicycle in one of the outhouses and had spent the afternoon cleaning it up, checking it over. She, like so many others, had used a bike continually during the war, and she’d been determined to have some means of transport to get out of the village. The bike had seemed her only option, but if Felix was intending to ride his horse everywhere, she could have the car.
‘So, what happens at this meet thing?’ she asked.
‘Everyone who wants to hunt with us is welcome. Most of the village turn out to see us off. It’s a great gathering.’
Felix and Daphne spent Christmas Day with Marjorie as planned and though Daphne had not been looking forward to it, it wasn’t as bad as she’d feared. In the morning, despite Daphne’s unwillingness, Felix had insisted that they both went to church.
‘Why do we have to go?’ she demanded petulantly. ‘I don’t believe in God... and nor do you!’
‘You don’t know what I believe,’ answered Felix mildly. ‘But that’s not the point here. We’ve come to live in the manor, my family home, and we have a position to maintain in the village. You want to be regarded as the lady of the manor and that demands certain behaviour, which, I’m afraid, includes going to church. It’s expected.’
‘Well, they’ll be disappointed.’
‘Daphne, we’re living here now. We have to become part of the village.’
‘Easy enough for you,’ muttered Daphne, ‘you was brought up here.’
‘Exactly,’ Felix said. ‘You’re going to have to make an effort.’ Seeing her mutinous expression he smiled and said, ‘Come on Daph, it’s only for an hour. Put your best bib and tucker on. It’s Christmas Day!’
Daphne sighed, but she went back upstairs and changed into one of the new outfits she’d bought when Felix was last away in Wynsdown, visiting his mother. She heard him say that money was going to be tight, and now that clothes rationing had been lifted, she’d decided to make the most of her last few weeks in London and add to her winter wardrobe. She had the bills sent to him.
The Married Girls Page 23
