by Hazel Holt
On my way back whom should I meet but Mr Russell. I was reluctant to speak with him, for you know how awkward it is to commiserate with someone on the death of a relative who was not much loved. But, although I turned my head as if I had not seen him, he came up and greeted me in such a loud and cheerful voice that I had no choice but to stop and be civil.
“My dear Miss Cowper,” he said, “how pleased I am to come upon you like this. I was in such a state, overwhelmed by the gloom and tedium at Holcombe – you may imagine how melancholy things are – that I felt I had to break away and seek a livelier air and brighter company. And here you are, like a sign from heaven that the sun will not forever hide its face behind the clouds. Pray do me the greatest favour and walk with me for a while along the Cobb. The fresh sea air and your invigorating company are the two things I need most in the world!”
I was somewhat taken aback by the impetuousness of his address, but upon reflection I could perfectly well imagine how dull and depressing Holcombe Hall must be at present to one who has nothing particular to occupy him. Men, if they are away from home where they might be occupied with their own business and affairs, must find the time hangs heavy, since they cannot at such times fill their days with shooting, fishing or other outdoor occupations and such solaces as we women may have, as needlework, music or small domestic tasks, are denied them. I therefore decided that it was no more than my duty to relieve Mr Russell’s boredom by walking with him beside the sea.
“We were all sorry to hear of your sad loss,” I said formally, “and so unexpected too.”
“As for that,” he replied, “you know that my aunt’s health has always been indifferent so that her death was not perhaps totally unexpected.”
I was surprised by this statement, since in one of our previous conversations Mr Russell had implied what has been the general opinion, viz – that Mrs Woodstock’s ill health was largely governed by whether or not she had her own way! Presumably now that she is dead she is to be allowed even by him to have suffered prodigiously in her lifetime.
“Indeed, sir,” I said, “We have often heard that to be the case.” He looked at me sharply, undecided whether I were being satirical or no, and I continued, “However, expected or not, death always comes as something of a shock, does it not?”
“That is very true,” he responded quickly. “We have all been greatly shaken by the event.”
“Has Dr King been able to determine the cause of death?” I enquired. He looked somewhat surprised at my question, having lived mostly in London and not knowing, I suppose, with what interest such things are regarded in a small community like ours.
“As to that,” he replied, “the suddenness of her death – she was in good health and spirits the previous evening – makes it seem most likely that my aunt suffered an angina and that is Dr King’s opinion.”
“You must be happy that she went peacefully, in her sleep,” I said.
“Indeed,” he said warmly. “What is it Thomson says?
Till loosen’d life, at last but breathing clay,
Without one pang is glad to fall away.
We walked along in silence for some minutes, looking at the small boats tied up in the harbour. “What a delightful prospect this is,” he said. “How much more pleasant than the dusty streets and hurly burly of London! How I wish I could stay in this spot for ever!”
“Do you return to London soon?”
“That I do not know at present,” he replied. “My movements are uncertain, I must see how things are disposed, you will understand. I may not yet venture upon expectation. There is much that I would wish to do, much that I would wish to say, but I must be patient.”
We returned along the Cobb and, as he offered me his arm to step down the slope, Maria Brompton came into view in company with Mrs West and her daughter. Mr Russell checked himself for a moment and said hastily, “Let us take the upper road, Miss Cowper. I fancy I see Miss Brompton and I do not feel able to face the endless comment and enquiry that will, I have no doubt, be forthcoming.”
He escorted me back to our very gate, nobly carrying the parcel of muslin, but would not come in.
“If you will forgive me, I will continue my walk. Having had a taste of the healing powers of Nature I wish to continue the cure!” He bowed. “My thanks, ma’am, for your company and conversation.”
While I must commend his gentlemanlike manner and his affability, I must confess that, after a short while I find Mr Russell’s conversation insipid. There is, certainly a kind of high spirits and vivacity but I do not feel that there is any real depth of feeling or intelligence, nor, indeed, any humour. It may be that now, secure in his aunt’s estate, and with proper occupation, he will develop those qualities, but I fear there may be a weakness of character which will forbid them.
It has come on to rain once more and I begin to fear that it will never be fine again. This is a finesse of mine, for I have often observed that if one writes about the weather, it is generally quite changed before the letter is completed.
I hope Miss Bennett is quite well again and had a comfortable dinner with you all. Does she remain as silent as ever? I recall, from my own last visit to Bath, the way she holds up her head and smiles and says nothing.
Lucy has just come in with several pairs of sheets to see which must be darned and which stitched down the middle. You can imagine how I wish you were here to give judgement on such weighty matters instead of me!
22nd June
I had intended closing this letter after my talk with Lucy, but something most extraordinary occurred which I long to tell you about, so I will extend the letter well beyond its natural length and will have to write my lines very close together to get in all I wish to say! As I said, I laid my letter to one side to deal with household matters and was not able to take it up again yesterday. I had just settled myself in the back parlour after breakfast, meaning to finish writing to you, when Miss West was announced. She was looking, as usual, most handsome in a lilac walking dress and a straw bonnet lined with silk in a matching colour – you may imagine how delightful it looked. She seemed to have something on her mind other than the usual civilities of a morning call and she declined my offer of refreshment abstractedly and answered my remarks somewhat at random, often remaining silent and leaving me to continue the conversation as best I could.
“It is a great blessing, is it not,” I persevered, “that the rain has finally stopped and the roads are passable for walking once more.”
“Indeed,” she said, “that is very true.”
There was another silence and I began to wonder why she had come. Perhaps her mother had thought it politic that she should be on friendly terms with the more established families hereabouts, though she, herself, seemed to have no particular wish to pursue the acquaintance at this time. Certainly, after the eager, artless flow of Miss West’s conversation on previous occasions I found this lack of communication strange indeed.
I allowed the silence to develop, hoping that the thought of us both sitting quite silent must eventually bring her to the point of saying something.
“Miss Cowper,” she said after a while, “do you know Mr Woodstock well?”
The amazement I felt at such a question must have shown in my face, for she went on, “You must think my question an odd one, I daresay, but I have a particular reason for asking.”
“Mr Woodstock,” I replied cautiously, “has always seemed to me an amiable man.”
“I am sure you will think it very strange of me to be inquiring of him in such a way,” she went on in some confusion. “I hope you will not think it impertinent of me to be making such inquiries of you. But you have been acquainted with the family for many years and I have scarcely spoken to him and – well, there are reasons why I need to ask you…” She broke off as if she could not being herself to continue.
As you may imagine, My Dear Charlotte, I was by now burning with curiosity to know her reason for this questioning.
“I have, as you say, known Mr Woodstock all my life,” I said, “but I would not venture to say that I could describe his character in any depth since, as you will no doubt have heard mentioned by all who knew him, he lived very much in the shadow of his wife.”
I regarded her keenly as I spoke, but she sat with her head cast down so that her face was shaded by her bonnet and I could not see her countenance.
After a moment she raised her head and looking at me with a candid gaze said, “ I do most sincerely wish for your good opinion, Miss Cowper, and I am sure that I need not have the smallest fear of trusting you. Indeed, I should be most glad of your advice on how to manage in what is truly a most difficult position.”
“Pray, Miss West,” I said, “do not confide in me anything that you should not.”
“No,” she said firmly, “Mama said that you should be told of the situation, since she seemed to think… ” She broke off in confusion, paused for a moment, and then went on more composedly, “I would like you to know our secret. I am engaged to Mr James Russell.”
You may imagine my astonishment at this announcement, made bashfully, but with a sidelong look to see how I had taken it. You will appreciate, My Dear Charlotte, how astonished I was by this information. And yet, as I took it in, many things fell into place – the Wests’ arrival in Lyme “for the sea air” and the reluctance of Mr Russell and Miss West to do more than exchange the merest civilities in public. Since Miss West, though blessed by Nature with a disproportionate amount of beauty, appears to have neither family nor fortune to recommend her, I have no doubt that Mrs. Woodstock would have been implacably opposed to such a match and it is obvious why the engagement had to be kept secret.
“Please accept my felicitations,” I said at last. “I must confess that I am amazed at what you have told me – Mr Russell never spoke of you.…”
Miss West coloured. “There were circumstances,” she said hesitantly. “You will know that James is wholly dependent upon his aunt and she had – well, other plans for him.”
Poor Miss Craven! Her case is hopeless indeed.
“And,” Miss West continued, even more reluctantly, her hands fidgeting with the silk fringe of her purse, “even now we cannot make any public announcement of our engagement until we see how things are left.…”
“Well,” I said, “your secret is safe with me. But, forgive me if I express some surprise at your telling me. You must have felt that my being acquainted with it would hardly add to its safety.”
Miss West bowed her head once more and spoke so quietly that I could scarcely hear her. “We thought,” she said, “that is, Mama thought that you, yourself, not knowing of a previous arrangement, might have misunderstood how things stand…”
I remembered that Mrs West and her daughter had seen me walking with Mr Russell, had seen him give me his arm to step down from the Cobb. It would appear that Mrs West thought that I was trying to flirt with him and was warning me off! I must tell you, My Dear Charlotte, I did not know whether to be offended that she should think I would consider such a one as Mr Russell in that light, or to burst out laughing. I rose from my chair and paced about the room.
“Mr dear Miss West,” I said coolly, “I have only the slightest acquaintance with Mr. Russell. He has not been so constant a visitor to the neighbourhood as might have made a friendship between him and any members of my family possible.”
She blushed deeply and I felt momentarily sorry for her. Her position had been, and perhaps still is, a difficult one.
“Have you known Mr Russell long?” I asked in a more sympathetic tone.
“Indeed, for two years now. He was visiting a friend in Kent – Sir Richard Barton. My father, until he died last year, was Sir Richard’s man of business. James and I met at an assembly in Tonbridge and we – we became acquainted.”
Once can imagine, can one not, how the attention of a young man like Mr Russell might well have been caught by Miss West’s beauty, which was, no doubt, enhanced by the lack of any real competition in such a circumscribed society.
“He visited Kent as often as he could.” Miss West’s tone had now assumed something of its former vivacity now that the actual message had been given. “And when he was in London we corresponded.” She caught my look of surprise and said defensively, “Mama knew that we had become engaged, we had her permission.”
I could well imagine that Mrs West was delighted at such a match for her daughter, especially since her circumstances would have been even less comfortable after her husband’s death.
“Did your father live long enough to hear of your engagement?” I asked. Miss West looked confused again and muttered something about nothing having reached that state while he was still alive, so I assumed that Mrs West had kept her own counsel about the affair, knowing that her husband would not have countenanced a secret understanding. Indeed, it would have been most awkward for him in his business dealings if such a thing had been made known to Mr Russell’s friend Sir Richard, who would surely have been aware of Mrs. Woodstock’s severe attitude to such an entanglement.
“What made you come to Lyme,” I asked curiously.
Miss West smoothed the fringe on her purse again and said, “I had not been well – I was quite melancholy as you can imagine, at being separated for so long from James – and the doctor recommended sea air and a change of scene, so Mama thought that perhaps we should come down here. We had no expectation of seeing James here – I had thought that he was still in London – but Mama felt that if we might become acquainted with Mrs Woodstock we would know more clearly how she felt about our attachment.”
I almost pitied Mrs West in her naive assumption that Mrs Woodstock might be persuaded to take a fancy to Miss Caroline and consider her a match for her nephew simply on the strength of beauty and pretty manners.
“But,” Miss West said sadly, “even if James had not been here, we would have found it difficult to make the acquaintance of Mrs Woodstock, since, even at the Assembly, she seemed to speak only to her own circle.” I remembered the reproof that Mrs Woodstock had given to Mrs West when that unfortunate lady tried to join her table in the card-room.
“She did for the most part,” I said, “restrict her conversation to a very small circle of friends and acquaintances.” It was obvious that the Wests had no more hope of forming an acquaintance with Mrs. Woodstock than with the Prince of Wales himself – less, indeed, since he has notoriously an eye for a pretty female!
“James was not pleased that we had come to Lyme,” Miss West said. I could imagine his surprise and I must confess that I felt no little amusement at what must have been his nervousness. With Miss West on the one hand, supported by her Mama, and Miss Craven, on the other, urged on by his aunt, he was indeed caught between a veritable Scylla and Charybdis!
“So you see,” Miss West said after a few moments silence, “you see why I wondered what manner of man Mr Woodstock is. I do not know if James will have his own inheritance or if, as Mama fears – that is, thinks- the property will be left to Mr Woodstock for his lifetime. If this is the case, do you think he will raise any objections to our marriage?”
She looked up at me, her large blue eyes dark as violets and I thought that if she regarded Mr Woodstock thus she need have no fear of his disapprobation.
“My dear Miss West,” I said, “I really cannot venture to say what Mr Woodstock may feel on that score. However,” I continued, “I imagine he will be more favourably disposed than his wife would have been.”
That seemed to satisfy her for shortly after she took her leave. So you see, my dear, what astonishing circumstances I had to relate – well worth an extra 6d, I think! I shall watch with great interest to see how Mr Russell behaves towards the Wests in future. No wonder he wished to avoid them when we came upon them by chance yesterday. Will he marry her, do you think? Does he truly love her, or was his aunt’s disapproval merely an excuse for a flirtation he had no intention of taking seriously? It is obvious that Mrs West has
taken it seriously enough, and I do not think that she would be easy to shake off. It seemed to me that, under that toad-eating exterior, lies hard steel! My hand aches with all this writing, so adieu.
Your affectionate and amazed sister,
E. C.
25th June
My Dear Charlotte,
You were mistaken in supposing I should expect your letter on Sunday; I had no idea of hearing from you before Tuesday and my pleasure yesterday was therefore unhurt by any previous disappointment. I was glad to hear that our uncle was better than he has been and is to bathe tomorrow and try the Electricity on Wednesday. Since he proposed the latter himself to Dr Fellowes, who made no objection to it, I can well believe that you and my aunt are unanimous in expecting no advantage from it.
You will be surprised to learn that Mrs Woodstock’s brother, Sir Matthew Russell, has arrived. I saw him yesterday when I went with our father to pay a call on Mr Woodstock; our mother not feeling too stout and wishing to keep quiet was unable to join us. He is a cold, gentleman-like man, and although he was perfectly civil it was plain that he considered the company inferior to that which he is accustomed to. He is, as you may remember, a medical man of the very highest order and he explained that he had wished to come to his sister’s funeral but, since he had been in attendance on the Duke of York at Bushey – a slight indisposition, but the Duke would have no other physician – it was obviously impossible for him to do so.
We all made suitable noises of assent, though I do not believe that the Duke would not (if asked) have spared him for such an occasion. However, Sir Matthew seemed so convinced of his own indispensability that I do not think anyone was inclined to disagree with him.
“I was greatly shocked,” he said “to learn of my sister’s death. When last I saw her she was in the best of health and I do not know of any reason why she should not have lived these next twenty years.”
