A large bowl of flowers stood on the deep window ledge, and everything gleamed and shone with polish, signs that a woman had been at work.
‘Well!’ Ryder stood in front of the empty fireplace, his hands in the pockets of his breeches. ‘Not married, eh?’
‘No.’ She looked at him for a long while and then said, ‘Are you?’
‘No. Not yet.’ He set his mouth in a stubborn line as though he did not wish to discuss the subject.
‘I changed my mind,’ she went on. ‘About the marriage.’
‘Oh, you didn’t like the man your family wanted you to marry?’ Ryder chuckled and took up his pipe from a cleft in the wall near the inglenook.
‘He was fifty years of age,’ Eliza exclaimed indignantly, leaning forward. ‘Fifty! And I am not yet nineteen.’
‘That is too bad, Miss,’ Ryder said, again with a chuckle.
‘And what did you do?’
‘I ran out of the room where we were to dine. I don’t know what came over me. I felt a kind of madness. I was so angry, so humiliated, as though they’d mislead me and made a fool of me. People assumed I didn’t feel well; but I simply couldn’t bear to sit next to him.’ She paused and sat down, uninvited, in one of the chairs. Ryder began to light his pipe in a slow, measured way, staring at her thoughtfully.
‘My family knew what was wrong, of course, and so did Lord Thornwell. He was very nice, though, and sent flowers. I feel I had behaved badly, and my family were furious. I am to be exiled abroad as a consequence ...’
‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. You’ll miss your riding.’ Ryder put his pipe in his mouth and started to puff at it to get it to draw.
‘I’m to be taught to be a lady.’ Eliza’s voice was heavy with sarcasm. ‘To go to school again. That’s why I’m not allowed to wear breeches when I go riding. In fact I’m not supposed to be here. But my mother is in Bournemouth and my brother in London. Doubtless there’ll be someone spying on me.’
‘It sounds like they keep a pretty strict eye on you, Miss Woodville.’
‘They do. And yet I’m nineteen in a few weeks’ time. Isn’t it shocking that I’m treated like a child?’
‘I’m surprised you take any notice of them, knowing you.’
‘How do you mean?’ She looked at him with interest.’ “Knowing me”?’
‘Well!’ Ryder contemplated the bowl of his pipe. ‘I’ve had a good opportunity to observe you about the house and riding in the fields. You may not know it, but I have. I’ve observed you a great deal, Miss Woodville, and the conclusion I’ve reached is that you are an independent spirit. You do not like conventions, and you are not conventional.’
‘But how can I break away from them, Mr Yetman?’
Ryder shrugged, then he knocked his pipe on the side of the inglenook and put it back in the cleft in the wall.
‘Marriage is the only way for a woman. That’s what I find unfair. Marriage or spinsterhood – there’s no other choice. There are woman of learning, but people are afraid of them. I’ve travelled a great deal, you know, Miss Woodville. I’ve known and met people of all kinds.’
In the corner of the living room was a bookcase full of books, and in another corner a great globe stood on a stand. Ryder went over to it and began to revolve it with his hand.
‘I travelled the world. I fought in a war. I’ve been wounded, left for dead. When I came back here I knew I didn’t fit in no more, but I loved the land and I had no place else I wanted to go. I thought maybe I’d settle when I met Maude Brough again. She seemed to like me and I liked her ... but, well, enough said,’ he concluded rather lamely.
He looked into her eyes and he wanted to tell her that he thought he loved her, not Maude Brough. He wanted to tell her that he was obsessed by her; that her beauty had haunted him ever since he’d first seen her in the big house.
But he didn’t dare. Not yet. Not, perhaps, ever. He would not, however, have told her that he felt a physical passion for her the like of which he had never felt for Maude Brough. The idea might have shocked her as it sometimes shocked him; the depth of his feelings, his sense of frustration as he thought about her in all his waking hours. Frequently he dreamt about her as well.
But from the way she looked at him now he thought maybe she knew it with her woman’s intuition, and he was about to take a step nearer her when suddenly the noise of a carriage outside interrupted the silence that had fallen between them. Ryder went to the window and looked out.
‘I’m afraid ‘tis your sister-in-law, Miss Woodville. I think she must have come after you,’ he said.
Eliza remained where she was. She felt a little nervous, but unafraid. Ryder’s presence gave her courage. He was strong, and his strength seemed to pass into her. She knew that a situation had arisen between them that was as far-reaching in its implications as it was unexpected. It was frightening, but thrilling too.
‘Open the door,’ she said, and there was a command in her tone. ‘Ask her to come in. She’s already seen the horse. There’s nothing we can do. Anyway, we’ve nothing to be ashamed of. A man and a woman can talk, can’t they?’
Without answering, Ryder went to the door and, opening it, stepped outside. Eliza heard him greet her sister-in-law and then she heard her name. She remained where she was, sitting upright, and it wasn’t until Margaret entered the room that she got to her feet and greeted her without smiling.
But Margaret had a smile on her face; her manner was gracious as though she wanted to make them feel at ease.
‘Fancy seeing you here, Eliza! I didn’t know you and Mr Yetman were so well acquainted.’
‘Well, we are,’ Eliza said, a note of defiance in her voice. ‘As I happened to be riding here, I looked in. Does that satisfy you, Margaret?’
Margaret raised her hand defensively.
‘Please don’t misunderstand me, Eliza. I haven’t come here to see you, but Mr Yetman. Naturally I saw Lady at the gate and realised you must be here. But I was not spying, I assure you of that.’
‘That’s good,’ Eliza said. ‘In that case I think I’ll be going.’
‘Oh, pray don’t go,’ Margaret said, pleasantly enough. ‘I merely came to ask Mr Yetman if he could advise me on some repairs necessary at the farm. Perhaps we could ride back together, Eliza?’
‘As you wish.’ Eliza sat down again while Ryder invited Margaret to do the same.
‘You know how pleased we were with the refurbishment to Pelham’s Oak.’ Margaret removed her gloves in a leisurely manner and placed them on her lap.
‘I don’t do that sort of thing any more, ma’am,’ Ryder said, leaning against the wall and beginning to fill his pipe again.
‘Oh? What do you do?’
‘I haven’t decided yet, Lady Woodville. I’ve been doing up this cottage, see?’
‘I do see. It looks very pleasant.’ Margaret gazed round appreciatively. ‘I’m sorry you can’t supervise the repairs to the farm for us.’
‘I don’t do much work for my father any more, Lady Woodville. I prefer to work for myself. I’m going to start a little smallholding here, growing flowers and vegetables, maybe have a few hens. Then I’m going to do some thatching. I like that.’
‘He did this roof,’ Eliza said as though it were something she too was proud of.
‘You’re very capable, Mr Yetman,’ Margaret said, getting to her feet. ‘If you would like to reconsider my proposition, please come and see me; but let me know soon, because I want it to be done quickly.’
‘I can tell you now for sure that I won’t do it, Lady Woodville,’ Ryder said, blowing smoke into the air. ‘Once I make my mind up I don’t change it. Besides, I’ve too much to do here before winter sets in. Best see my father, ma’am. I’m sure he can help you, or knows someone who can.’
‘Well, in that case I’ll consult him.’ Margaret now looked sharply at Eliza, who got reluctantly to her feet.
‘It was very nice to see you again, Mr Yetman.’ Margaret turned gracious
ly towards him at the door.
Eliza thought how quickly, yet how subtly, she had transformed herself from Miss Heering to Lady Woodville.
‘And you, my lady.’ Ryder bowed his head, politely but not in the least obsequiously.
‘Goodbye, then.’
‘Goodbye.’
He nodded to Eliza, who nodded to him. No message passed between them, but already they seemed to have an understanding that precluded any need for formal farewells.
Eliza on Lady trotted behind Margaret’s carriage all the way back to the house. The spring in her horse’s step seemed to find an echo in her heart. She was so happy she felt almost delirious. Was she, perhaps, a little bit in love? Was it possible? When the groom came out to look after the horses, while the coachman unharnessed the carriage, he gave her a startled look. She didn’t know it, but the expression on her face was beatific.
Margaret paused to chat to the coachman and give him further instructions, while Ted took Lady’s bridle and led her round to the back. Although Eliza thanked him she didn’t seem to see him. He wondered what had happened to her on that short journey. Mystified, he removed Lady’s saddle and began to rub her down.
‘Shall we have lunch outside on the terrace?’ Margaret said. ‘It’s such a lovely day. Would you like that, Eliza?’
‘Lovely,’ Eliza said, not caring where she ate, or when. ‘I’ll go and change.’
She ran quickly upstairs to her room and stripped off her riding habit. Her heart was racing and she felt like bursting into song. Was it possible to fall so quickly, so easily in love with a man she scarcely knew? The fact that her family would consider him most unsuitable didn’t matter in the least. If anything, it added to his attraction. She splashed her face with cold water from the jug on the washstand and combed her hair. Then she put on a summery dress, a pretty floral cotton with a square neckline and short balloon sleeves that her dressmaker had made for her the previous summer.
When she got downstairs the table was already laid in the shade of Pelham Woodville’s great oak tree which had given the house its name. Its thick branches swung gracefully across the lawn, touching at one extremity the ornamental fish pond and, at the other, the terrace made of blocks of Purbeck stone on which stood classical statues in bronze and marble, imported in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries from Italy.
Two or three miles away, as flown by the crow, lay Ryder’s cottage, shimmering now in the haze of noon. The windows were closed and it looked as though Ryder had gone out. It was impossible from here to see round the back, but Eliza could imagine him stripped to the waist again digging, a film of sweat across his brow matting his blond hair as though he’d been swimming.
The footman had finished setting the table and held out a chair for Eliza who, thanking him, sank into it. He was someone new she had never seen before. These days the house seemed full of strangers.
‘Lady Woodville will be here in a few minutes, Miss Woodville. Would you like something to drink?’
‘A glass of water, thank you,’ Eliza said to the footman, who bowed and made his exit in precise, measured steps across the terrace. The table had been laid with a white linen cloth, and the Woodville family silver sparkled in the sunshine.
The family, hidebound by convention, had been unaccustomed to eating outside unless it were for a picnic, but as she put her head back and closed her eyes against the sun, Eliza thought what a good idea it was – one of many that Margaret had introduced. As a Dutchwoman brought up in the ways of industry and frugality, Margaret had immediately made changes to the running of the household. She didn’t mean to annoy her mother-in-law, but, inevitably, she did. Henrietta found more and more occasions to be away from home, spending much of her time in Bournemouth or its environs, where she was seeking to purchase a property.
The footman brought a jug of water and glasses on a tray just as Margaret arrived, having changed her dress. As she sat down he sprang forward to spread a napkin across her knee.
‘Shall I serve luncheon now, my lady?’
‘Yes please, Arthur.’
Margaret not only personally engaged each new servant but she remembered their names and knew all about them. She had no need, or desire, for a housekeeper, having been trained by her economical mother to run a large household: to see to everyone’s wants and needs from the head of the house right down to the humblest servant.
Luncheon was a simple affair of cold meats and salads, with newly churned butter and freshly baked bread. There was a summer pudding to follow, delicious with fresh cream, and they drank water.
At the beginning of luncheon with the servants present they discussed trivialities, but over the pudding, when they were alone, Margaret got down to what was on her mind.
‘This cream from the farm is very good,’ she said after tasting it. ‘One of the criticisms I had of the farm was the quality of some of its produce. If you see the state of some of the animals you do not wonder. Half-starved cows do not produce good milk. The farmer then brought my attention to how much needed doing, how poor his facilities were. His spirits are very low. I’m afraid your family let everything decay for too long, my dear Eliza. It was as well I came along when I did.’ Her lips pursed disapprovingly.
Eliza knew exactly what she meant: Sir Matthew and Sir Guy had been sadly derelict in their duties.
‘That was the purpose of my visit to Mr Yetman,’ Margaret said firmly. ‘Not to spy on you.’
‘I’m glad to hear that,’ Eliza said, but she kept her eyes on her plate. She was afraid their sparkle might give her away; that the joy she was feeling might reveal itself.
‘However, my dear, I must tell you just the same how concerned I was to find you there, alone in his house, with a man. Supposing it had been someone else who discovered you and not I? Supposing it had been your mother?’
‘I would not have gone if my mother had been here,’ Eliza replied. ‘I know that she stands at her window spying on me.’
‘Nonsense, you must not say such a thing of your mama ...’
‘But it’s true. She also asks the servants to spy on me. I know because they tell me.’
‘Tut tut, Eliza, I don’t think you should be so familiar with the servants.’
‘Some of the servants are my best friends,’ Eliza said defiantly. ‘Those, the very few, who have been here since I was a child. Ted in the stable was a young lad of about eleven when he started looking after our horses. Ted would never spy on me.’
Margaret rose and, pressing her hands to her slender corseted waist, began to pace back and forth. Finally she paused in front of Eliza and gazed down at her. Margaret was tall for a woman so, standing over her, she seemed to Eliza formidable, to have grown in stature.
‘My dear Eliza, I think you know that I am genuinely fond of you and want to be your friend. I am a good deal older than you, but I have never had a sister. This is a foreign country to me. Dearest Guy, as you know, has to spend a lot of his time in London. I am delighted he takes the business so seriously, for he has much to learn. I know that Guy was brought up with no need to work. Unfortunately so was his father before him, and the Woodville fortune has practically vanished. Guy is a capable man, but not a man of business. The men in my family were brought up to be frugal and hardworking from their youth. Hence the rewards,’ Margaret said with a smile. Then impulsively she sat down next to Eliza and placed her hand over that of the younger woman. ‘Oh, I know quite well why Guy wanted to marry me, or rather why his family did. But it was advantageous for me too. Besides the fact that I genuinely love Guy, I wanted to marry and get away from my family. So I know how you feel, my dear, how confined and restricted. We all thought Lord Thornwell an exceptionally fine and attractive man.’
‘Fine for you perhaps, but not for me.’ As soon as she had uttered the words Eliza regretted them. ‘I’m terribly sorry,’ she said, clasping the hand that still lay across hers. ‘I didn’t mean to be rude.’
‘I know what you mean.’
The practical Margaret nodded her head emphatically. ‘Lord Thornwell would have been nearer my age than yours; but believe me, my dear sister – for I think of you as that – age is immaterial. Lord Thornwell presented for you what Guy presented for me: a chance to change one’s life, change it completely, and for the better. I’m afraid you may well come to regret that you turned down the opportunity.’
‘Well, I don’t,’ Eliza said, just as emphatically. Her gaze turned towards the cottage that lay in the valley, and in her mind’s eye she could see Ryder leaning against the wall filling his pipe. There was a repose, a strength about him. But it was more than that; much, much more.
‘I see.’ Margaret got up and resumed her pacing. The footman and a maid came and cleared away. Coffee was brought out in a silver pot, and petits fours which cook had baked that morning. Margaret thanked the footman, told him to go, poured and handed Eliza her cup.
‘I think your rebellion will be the undoing of you, my dear, if you do not take care. I see a lot of Guy in you; but Guy is a man. You would do well to take advantage of your stay in Holland to overcome this impulsiveness which I think of as a family weakness. As you are a woman yours will do you more harm.’
‘I’m not even sure I’m going to Holland,’ Eliza burst out.
‘But what do you mean? That is all arranged.’
‘Yes, I know it is, but not with my consent. Am I a child? No, I am a woman. Had I consented to become engaged to Lord Thornwell I would be nearly a married woman as well, like you.’
‘Yes, but under the control of your husband.’
‘You are scarcely under the control of Guy.’
Margaret acknowledged the justice of the remark and gnawed anxiously at the corner of her fingernail. After a while she put her hand down, and when she looked at Eliza she was no longer smiling.
‘Fortunately your brother is so unconcerned about what happens here that I have a free hand; but, essentially, when a woman marries she forfeits her independence. Yet what independence has she before? I loved my father, but I didn’t want to be under his control for the rest of my life. Far rather a husband I love and cherish than an ageing father to whom I am subservient. There is also the hope of children to bring joy to our lives and an heir for Guy.
The People of This Parish (Part One of The People of this Parish Saga) Page 10
