Marianna

by Nancy Buckingham

  But it was no better in the drawing room, where Harriet presided over the tea tray, afterwards having her octagonal work-box brought forward and settling down to the embroidery of an antimacassar. William talked shipping matters to Ralph, who made no attempt to conceal his boredom. Eunice, after twenty minutes at the solitaire board, inquired coolly if Marianna played the piano. She confessed apologetically that her playing left a great deal to be desired. At which Eunice went to the instrument and proceeded to give a dazzling performance of some Chopin mazurkas. Marianna was genuinely admiring and expressed warm compliments, as did Harriet. William, though, made no comment at all. He had shown a total lack of interest in his daughter’s playing, reaching for a copy of the Illustrated London News and flicking through the pages rapidly.

  As early as decency permitted, Eunice and Ralph and their aunt all found excuses to retreat.

  ‘Now, my dearest Marianna, you must play for me,’ William said fondly, the moment they were alone.

  ‘Oh, but I am very inexpert compared with Eunice,’ she demurred. ‘In any case, I am sadly out of practice. Sketching has always been my best accomplishment.’

  ‘Nevertheless, I want to hear something from you.’

  Unhappily, Marianna stumbled her way to the end of a Schubert piece. She feared William’s displeasure, but to her surprise he smiled kindly.

  ‘You have a charming touch, my darling girl. We shall have to see about getting some tuition for you. I imagine that Eunice’s former teacher, old Professor Ridley, would be prepared to accept you as a pupil.’

  ‘But William, I have no wish to —’

  He continued to smile. ‘Your wish is to please your husband, is that not so?’

  ‘Naturally, but —’

  ‘Then it is agreed.’ He came and stood behind her, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders. ‘You are enchanting, my dearest little love. You have utterly captured my heart. Are you tired, after such a long day?’

  ‘Not... not really.’

  ‘All the same, it is time you went to bed. Come along now.’

  Though it still wanted five minutes to ten o’clock, Marianna was unsurprised that her husband was suggesting they should retire at such an early hour. During the voyage he had restrained himself from troubling her out of kindness and consideration, but now, on their first night together in his own home, it would be different. She was quite ready, she was fully prepared in her mind.

  With William’s hand at her elbow, they ascended the staircase together, watched impassively by the busts of doubtless famous personages that had been set at intervals upon marble plinths. Reaching her boudoir, softly illumined by pink-globed lamps, they found Hilda busy hanging up some more of the dresses she had taken away for pressing.

  William said curtly, ‘Make haste, girl, and be gone.’

  ‘Yessir.’

  ‘And tell Mr Jensen to bring whisky to my dressing room.’

  ‘Yessir. Will madam be wanting me ...?’ She caught his eye, hurriedly put away the last garment in the wardrobe and fled.

  Marianna protested mildly. ‘It would be easier for me, William, to have the maid’s assistance. This dress is rather…’

  He laughed, a chuckle deep in his throat. ‘Have I been defeated yet, my little one? Come, give your Billykins a kiss, and then we shall explore the whys and wherefores of all those cunning hooks and eyes of yours.’

  Why was it, Marianna wondered desolately as William sat her upon his knee and yet again went through the nightly ritual of undressing her and putting on her nightgown, that she felt a new and even keener sense of embarrassment? Why, she wondered later, when after tucking her up with a kiss and departing for a while to his dressing room, he returned and climbed into bed to caress her and whisper fond endearments — why was there this overwhelming feeling of humiliation? She lay stiff and trembling while her husband held her soft young body in his arms, just as on those four nights of the voyage — yet somehow, tonight, she felt defiled.

  Chapter 6

  Walking the aisle on William’s arm to the boxed-in family pew at the front of the church, Marianna was aware that her presence caused a stir of interest in the congregation. The ancient Saxon building, with pale sunshine slanting through the stained glass windows, possessed an austere beauty that seemed strange after the warm and friendly rotunda of Funchal’s Anglican church. But the order of service was blessedly familiar, the hymns, the prayers, the responses. Even a long-winded sermon brought comfort, and with the text from the Philippians, I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me, she was inspired to make the very best of her new life.

  The vicar was in the porch as everyone filed out. He was an elderly man and rather hard of hearing, a handicap he endeavoured to counter by an excess of affability. Marianna was introduced to a number of the village notables, who seemed uncertain in their attitude towards her, while they murmured vague pleasantries about paying a call quite soon.

  After luncheon, another difficult meal, Marianna asked William to show her more of the house. There were a bewildering number of bedrooms, she discovered, and she inquired if many guests came to stay at Highmount.

  William laughed shortly. ‘As few as I can get away with, my precious. Of course, there are the duty invitations to relatives.’

  ‘I wondered about that, William. You haven’t mentioned having any relatives before.’

  ‘Because they aren’t worth mentioning, that’s why. There’s a maiden aunt of mine still living, my mother’s youngest sister, who is turned eighty now and resides at Maidenhead. She expects an invitation to stay each June. And besides Aunt Mildred, I have a few cousins and second cousins dotted around the kingdom. But I see as little of them as possible.’

  ‘I suppose you entertain quite a lot — dinner parties and receptions?’

  ‘Here in the country we have to ask the local bigwigs a couple of times each year. That’s about all. In London there is more, of course, but most of the entertaining connected with business I do at my club.’

  William smiled at her and tickled her under the chin. ‘So you see, my little angel has nothing to fret about. In any event, Harriet attends to all that’s necessary. Your job is just to be here and look pretty for me — you should find that easy enough, eh?’

  They went outside to the stables, William explaining that he wanted to pick out a mount for her use.

  ‘We’ll find you a nice, gentle little mare, my precious.’

  ‘But I am quite accustomed to riding,’ Marianna reminded him. ‘I like a pony with a certain amount of spirit.’

  ‘William knows best,’ he said firmly.

  In the event, the mare he selected for her, after consulting with the head groom, was a beautiful creature called Pruella. William smiled indulgently as she stroked the velvet muzzle, murmuring soft endearments and promising that they would have lovely long rides together through the beautiful countryside all around them.

  ‘You make your poor husband quite jealous,’ he teased. Then, in a serious tone, ‘I’m not at all sure, though, that I should allow you to go riding alone.’

  “Oh please, William! I don’t always want to have to take a groom with me. I’ll be extremely careful, truly I will. I promise — cross my heart!’

  He chuckled delightedly at her use of the childish phrase.

  ‘How can I not come under your spell, you bewitching angel? Very well then, you may ride alone sometimes when I am not here — but only within the grounds. That must be clearly understood.’

  ‘Yes, William,’ she said, in meek resignation.

  * * * *

  Flurries of rain were spattering the window panes when Marianna awoke on Monday morning. A glance at the French clock on the night table showed the time as twenty past eight. William was due to catch the eight-thirty train to London, so he must have left the house some minutes ago — without coming to say goodbye to her.

  She gave a long sigh, dreading the prospect of these few days spent in the company of
three people who so bitterly resented her. She could only hope that William’s absence would not be taken as an opportunity to show their hostility more openly. As she turned and reached for the bell rope, she made a fervent resolve that any unpleasantness would not be due to her; she would remain calm, be civil, and conduct herself with dignity whatever might arise.

  Hilda answered her summons a few minutes later, bearing a tray of morning tea. Against the white porcelain teapot was propped a sealed envelope; a note from her husband, Marianna discovered.

  My darling girl looked so angelic lying there with her silken locks all tumbled about the pillow, that I could not bring myself to waken her from her sweet dreamland. I shall be desolate, my treasure, until I have completed these tiresome business matters that call me away and can return in haste to my own little precious. A thousand kisses, your ever-loving B.

  B for Billykins. It was the pet name he had several times hinted that she should call him when they were alone together, but Marianna had not yet brought herself to do so.

  After drinking her tea, she slid out of bed and carefully locked away the note in the ivory and tortoise-shell casket containing her mother’s jewels, which her father had passed on to her now she was married. Marianna had no wish to leave such an epistle lying around where it might be read by prying eyes. Then she rang for Hilda again to help her dress.

  On reflection she had decided to breakfast downstairs, as yesterday with William — a brave decision, when she might have kept to the sanctuary of her bedchamber a little longer.

  In the breakfast parlour, a room only a little less grand than the dining room itself, Ralph was seated at the oval table moodily eating poached haddock and scanning a newspaper propped against a bowl of fruit. The black mastiff, Cato, was flopped on the carpet at his feet. Ralph made no attempt to rise when Marianna entered, and his eyes gleamed with mockery.

  ‘Good morning to you, dearest stepmama.’

  ‘Good morning, Ralph,’ she replied evenly, controlling her features. ‘I thought it was understood that you should call me Marianna.’

  He adopted a crestfallen expression, ‘Have I been a naughty boy? Are you cross with me? Am I to be packed off to the nursery and put on bread and milk?’

  She ignored this jibe and inquired if Miss Fielding and Eunice normally took breakfast in bed.

  Ralph nodded. ‘And I would too, by Jove, as I always do when I’m at Oxford — only the guv’nor has laid down the law, By his reckoning, breakfast in bed is unmanly for a fellow.’ He gestured to the sideboard. ‘This haddock isn’t bad. Or there’s devilled kidneys, or York ham ...’

  He did have the courtesy to ring for fresh tea for her, and this was brought by a sour-faced, sleepy-eyed young maidservant whom Marianna had not seen before. Setting down the tray, she ran for cover when Ralph thwacked her on the rump with the folded newspaper, saying, ‘Trust you enjoyed your Sunday off with that randy swain of yours, Sally my girl. This is your new mistress, you know. You’ll need to watch your p’s and q’s with her. She’ll not put up with any of your skylarking, I’ll be bound.’

  Marianna was outraged. Clenching her fists, she sent the maidservant away, saying briskly, ‘That will be all, thank you, Sally. ’ Then she turned on Ralph, endeavouring to moderate her anger.

  ‘It is very wrong of you to speak about me in such a familiar way with one of the servants,’ she said. ‘Your conduct just now was quite unpardonable.’

  An unpleasant scowl appeared on Ralph’s handsome face.

  ‘I tremble and quail before the fearful wrath of my stepmama,’ he mocked.

  ‘And don’t call me by that absurd name, if you please.’

  ‘But my stepmama is what you indubitably are, is that not so? Though one or two choice epithets spring to mind which might suit you somewhat better, my dear Marianna.’

  Despite all previous evidence, she was shocked at the depth of Ralph’s resentment towards her.

  ‘Ralph, please ... cannot we try to be friends?’ she begged, reaching across the table impulsively and laying a hand on his sleeve. As if her very touch repelled him, he jerked his arm away and stood up.

  ‘I prefer to select my own friends,’ he said coldly. ‘Not have them thrust upon me by my father.’

  Later, it proved just as hopeless with William’s sister-in-law. Directed by the butler, Marianna found Miss Fielding in the small morning room, seated at a rosewood writing-table. With Harriet was the housekeeper, who stood clasping her hands obsequiously. She was a tall, thin woman wearing a black stuff dress, and her greying hair was drawn back tightly in an unflattering bun.

  ‘Ah, good morning, Marianna.’ Harriet’s tone was far from welcoming. ‘Just take a seat over there, will you, while I conclude my business with Mrs Thorpe.’

  Complying with this request, Marianna offered a greeting to the housekeeper, who ventured, ‘I trust the girl Hilda is proving satisfactory, Mrs Penfold, ma’am?’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Thorpe. She is quite adequate for my needs.’

  Harriet prevented any further exchange between them by embarking upon a complaint about having found traces of dust on the picture frames and beeswax smears on the furniture. Marianna had to sit through a long dissertation on the need to keep housemaids up to the mark, or standards would slip in each and every direction. The purpose of all this, Marianna suspected with growing conviction, was to demonstrate that the control of the household lay firmly in the hands of Harriet Fielding.

  When the housekeeper was finally dismissed, Marianna said tentatively, ‘I really think that I should begin to take some of the burden from your shoulders, Miss Fielding.’

  ‘Indeed? You imagine that I am incapable?’

  ‘Of course not. I was suggesting no such thing. But after all, I am William’s wife, and—’

  ‘I scarcely need to be reminded of that unpalatable fact!’ Harriet penned an entry in her accounts book, blotted it with deliberations then closed the book and snapped the metal clasp into place. ‘I confess that I am curious to know how you contrived it.’

  ‘Contrived it? What do you mean?’

  ‘Oh come now, my dear, don’t pretend with me. William has reached his middle years, a stage in life when any man feels that his appeal to the feminine sex is waning, William is particularly vulnerable to the wiles of a determined young woman such as yourself, especially one who—’

  ‘But I used no wiles against him,’ Marianna protested.

  ‘No? Are you saying that you did not turn those big blue eyes of yours upon him, swimming with childlike adoration? You did not flatter him with soft, appealing words? Come now, Marianna, you are talking to another woman, remember, and that means I can see through your disguise of fresh young innocence.’ She placed the accounts book in the writing-table drawer and locked it away. ‘William must have been a truly magnificent catch for you, the daughter of a hard-pressed wine shipper,’ she went on reflectively. ‘I gather from the newspapers that this phylloxera is severely affecting the wine trade in Madeira.’

  It was so shrewd, so near the mark, and yet such a cruel distortion of the truth. Marianna said heatedly, ‘That is an outrageous suggestion to make, Miss Fielding.’

  ‘So I am asked to believe that you married William because you fell head over heels in love with him — a man three times your age and more. Is that it?’ Receiving no immediate reply, Harriet pressed her advantage. ‘Well, Marianna — do you love your husband?’

  Marianna fingered her wedding ring nervously. ‘Why do you find that so difficult to believe? Did your sister not love William?’

  About to make a sharp retort, Harriet paused and began again. ‘Ruth was no older than you are now when he married her, more than twenty years ago. Did you know that?’

  As she spoke there was a look of suffering in her eyes, and her two hands were clenched together tightly. Marianna was surprised to discover that, beneath her anger, she felt a stir of reluctant sympathy for Harriet Fielding. Years ago, she had hoped to marry Will
iam herself, but instead he had chosen her considerably younger sister. And after the sister’s death, it appeared, he had turned back to Harriet and used her, briefly, as a solace. And then, had abandoned her without a word of explanation. It seemed heartless treatment for any woman to have to endure.

  Marianna began falteringly, aware that she was being disloyal, ‘I fully realize what a shock it must have been for you the other day to discover that I was William’s wife. I was very distressed myself that he’d not seen fit to inform you in advance. But he said he wanted to keep it as a surprise. I... I think it was a mistaken decision. I’m sorry, truly I am, Miss Fielding. Believe me, I have every sympathy for you.’

  ‘I can manage without your sympathy, thank you.’

  ‘Then perhaps you might spare a little for me,’ Marianna said, losing patience. ‘I too received a surprise when I arrived. I had no idea that William’s first wife had a sister living here at Highmount, who was in charge of the household — a function which I had anticipated would be mine. So had you and I not better accept one another and make the best of things? If we cannot be friends, then at least let us not be enemies,’

  Harriet was totally unmoved by her appeal. ‘I accept your presence under sufferance, Mrs Penfold, because I have no other option. But ask no more of me than that.’

  Despairing, Marianna went up to her room and busied herself with sundry trivia. Then she remembered Pruella, so she changed into her riding habit and went down to the stables. The familiar sensation of being on horseback was strangely comforting, and as they set off through the beech grove she allowed her mind to wander. She was invaded by a sweet ache of longing for her father, for Linguareira. For Jacinto ...