by Jack Murray
Esther did not reply but she seemed troubled. Kit did not pursue why. He accepted neither sister might not have much time for Henry either, for reasons he would not be privy to. They talked a little more about less controversial topics. Kit was happy to let her talk about life at Cavendish Hall. He had no problem in playing the role of listener if it meant that he could gaze upon her.
Soon they joined the rest of the party. Cavendish looked over at Curtis who was trying to attract his attention. Nodding he turned to the rest of the party. ‘I believe the carol singing will shortly begin. I gather from Curtis that Reverend Simmons and the villagers are coming down the driveway.’
Everyone turned towards the window and, sure enough, a large party of men, women and children were heading towards Cavendish Hall. The snow had, temporarily at least, stopped falling.
Cavendish led his guests out into the main hallway, which had undergone some transformation whilst they had lunched. Serving tables and some chairs had been set out in the enormous hallway. On the tables were punch bowls full of mulled wine, and heaps of mince pies, boxes of chocolates, crackers. Under the big Christmas tree were piled all manner of dolls, bottles of sweets, bats, balls, boxes of toy soldiers, toy ships, toy aeroplanes, other charming mechanical toys and books.
Taking charge, Cavendish instructed his guests where they would go. ‘Myself and Lady Emily will greet everyone at the front. Girls, please can you occupy tables one and two. Kit and Mr. Strangerson if you could be so kind as to go to tables three and four. I imagine, Mr. Strangerson you will have great experience in managing a punch bowl.’ This brought much merriment to all except Lady Emily and Henry. Finally, he added, ‘Perhaps, Henry, you could join Kit.’
Orders given, all went to their positions. Curtis went to the front door, to anticipate the imminent arrival of the villagers. His timing was perfect as within moments of his arrival there was a loud rap on the oak door. With due solemnity, Curtis opened the door and was met by the Vicar, Tom Simmons. With a nod of his head, Curtis indicated that the carol singers could begin to sing.
Stood in the hallway, it was difficult for Kit to judge how many there were, but he could see all ages. A warm feeling overcame him despite the cold. This was one of his favourite Christmas traditions and he looked forward to the rest of the afternoon.
Chapter 6
God rest ye merry gentlemen
Let nothing you dismay
Remember Christ our Savior
Was born on Christmas Day
The carol singers stood outside the hall, wrapped up in large coats, scarves and hats. The singers were led by a sturdy-looking man, in his late forties. Kit guessed this was Reverend Simmons. His complexion was ruddy with a largish nose that looked like it had once been broken. Kit detected what looked like a cauliflower ear, but he couldn’t be sure as it was partially obscured by the dark hat. He wondered if he was or had been a rugger player.
The carol singers completed their first carol and then Cavendish stepped forward to greet Simmons. ‘Tom, so glad you were all able to come,’ he said shaking hands. ‘I thought the weather might make it touch and go.’
Simmons laughed, ‘You’re not the only one Lord Cavendish! I think it would take more than a few flakes of snow to stop this lot coming up here though. They are a hardy lot.’
‘I’ve noticed. Do come inside, I think you and the children deserve warmer surroundings and something for your efforts.’
The carol singers marched in first followed by the villagers and about a dozen children and toddlers. Once they were all in the main hall, Cavendish stood before them to give his traditional Christmas speech to the village.
‘I feel there are a few of you who could probably give this speech now, you’ve heard it so often.’ There was some laughter at this from the older villagers and carol singers. ‘But no matter, tradition must be followed. And, I would like to think of this as a tradition that is as welcome to you as it is for we who live and have lived at Cavendish Hall.’
This was greeted by many saying, ‘Hear, hear.’
‘In fact, I hope this tradition of ours will go on for many generations to come.’ This was greeted with applause by all, although Cavendish could not help but observe with dismay that neither Emily nor Henry did so. Neither looked very enthusiastic at the prospect. Cavendish was not the only person to notice. Kit saw Esther and Mary look at one another grimly. He was surprised, however, when Mary turned, and looked directly at him with narrowed eyes and a half smile. He had been caught out and this made him smile. She didn’t miss much.
Cavendish continued, ‘As you know, we shall serve mulled wine, lemonade and mince pies to you all. Doing so, as usual will be my granddaughters whom you know very well, Lady Esther and Lady Mary. Joining us are our guests this Christmas, Lady Emily and Henry, who you both will know also as well as Lord Christopher ‘Kit’ Aston and Mr Eric Strangerson.’ The guests were greeted with a round of applause.
‘I should add, I met Lord Aston during the war, where he, with great valour, fought for his country. Likewise, Mr Strangerson also fought for his country alongside my late son Robert. I hope you will give them a very special Little Gloston welcome.’ There was a murmured assent and further applause.
‘I think it’s high time we served you some food and drink, don’t you think?’ This was greeted with laughter. ‘Then we can enjoy some more beautiful carols to get us into the Christmas spirit. Finally, we can get on with the key event of the day, at least for our younger guests.’ A cheer rose up from the children, which added to the general cheerfulness of the occasion.
After saying a final thank you to Reverend Simmons, the visitors dispersed to different tables to receive their drinks and mince pies. Kit observed with some amusement how many of the men made straight for the tables where the two girls were serving, while the women seemed to be coming in his direction. The children seemed to respond more to Strangerson and they were royally entertained by his jollity. Much laughter ensued as Strangerson played the fool to an adoring gallery.
Once all the visitors had been served, the Cavendish’s, apart from Emily and Henry, mingled freely and easily. Strangerson was now captive to the children and was performing magic tricks involving coins appearing from behind ears. This caused squeals of delight from the children who inevitably demanded more.
Kit was joined by Reverend Simmons. The removal of his hat confirmed Kit’s suspicion that he had cauliflower ears. Although this was clearly unusual for a parson, it made Simmons’s appearance more interesting to Kit and he felt an instant liking for this man.
‘Have you played a bit of rugger in your time?’ asked Kit with a smile.
Laughing, Simmons shook his head, ‘No, more of a soccer man myself. I assume you’re referring to the appearance of my ears.’
‘Well, yes as a matter of fact.’
‘I understand, Lord Aston. In fact, I wasn’t always a vicar. When I first met Lord Cavendish I was in the army.’
‘Really? Where were you?’
‘South Africa during the Boer War. I was a Sergeant with the Northamptonshire’s. A few years after I returned from South Africa, I followed a different calling.’
‘Is this how you met Lord Cavendish?’
Simmons laughed, ‘Ah, well now we’re back to my ears. I was a boxer and I represented my battalion. Lord Cavendish came to one of the inter-army fights.’
‘I‘ve been to a few fights myself, in fact, I named my dog after my favourite fighter,’ said Kit.
‘Really, who would that be?’ inquired Simmons.
‘Have you heard of Sam Langford at all?’
‘Heard of him? I sparred a few rounds with him, when he toured England. It must be nearly ten years ago now,’ said the man of God to an amazed Kit.
‘It was – gosh what was he like?’
‘A lovely man outside the ring but my goodness he could punch like angry mule,’ Simmons smiled and rubbed his jaw as he relived this memory. Just as they had been talkin
g, Kit heard a familiar yelp and into the hall raced Sam, followed by Miller. This caused more amusement as they watched the spectacle of a very unhappy Miller trying to catch the tiny Jack Russell. Eventually he gave up but was rewarded with a sympathetic round of applause, which caused him to stop and make an exaggerated bow.
Miller went over to apologize to Kit, ‘Sorry sir, I couldn’t keep him cooped up any longer.’
‘Don’t worry Harry. No harm done. Anyway, he seems to be making friends.’ They both glanced over at Sam being fed snacks by Esther and Mary. ‘Can’t fault his taste.’ added Kit. Miller noted the comment but made no reply. Kit returned his gaze to Miller and said, ‘Help yourself, Harry. By the way this is Reverend Simmons.’
‘Hello Harry,’ said Reverend Simmons amiably.
Miller and Simmons exchanged handshakes. Kit caught Miller looking at the Reverend’s ears. ‘He went a few rounds with the Boston Tar Baby,’ explained Kit.
Miller and Simmons laughed and the three chatted happily for a few more minutes on the noble art, soon they were joined by Cavendish.
‘Tom, I’m glad you’ve met Kit. I should add, Kit, that Tom will be joining us for Christmas lunch tomorrow.’ Cavendish glanced at Miller. Kit once again felt something had troubled him about Miller. He was very curious but decided that rather than ask Cavendish directly, it would be more prudent to wait and see if he said anything.
‘Yes, we have a mutual interest in the pugilistic science,’ said Kit.
This made Cavendish chuckle. Then he went on to relate their first meeting in South Africa. After a pleasant few minutes Cavendish asked, ‘Tom, do you think your carol singers are ready to perform?’
‘I should say they are,’ replied Simmons. Taking his leave from the group, he walked to the centre of the hall and clapped his hands to gain everyone’s attention. A few minutes later the carol singers began again, this time accompanied by a few guest singers. Strangerson proved to have a very fine baritone but Kit found himself listening closely to the beautiful harmonies coming from the two Cavendish girls.
The end of the first carol, ‘Oh Come All Ye Faithful’, was accompanied by an additional singer with a distinctly canine timbre. Sam’s howling, of course, caused great laughter in the hall. With smiles all around, Kit went over to Mary and collected the little dog bringing him downstairs lest he should derail the rest of the singing.
He returned a few minutes later in time to join the singers in ‘Hark the Herald Angels Sing!’ The carols continued for another twenty minutes before Reverend Simmons brought an end to proceedings. The inhabitants of Cavendish Hall and the guests gave loud acclaim to the efforts of the choir. Soon the villagers where trooping out of the hall just as daylight was beginning to turn to gray and purple. Some flakes of snow were beginning to meander lazily through the air.
Replacing his hat, Simmons bid goodbye to Cavendish. ‘Merry Christmas, Lord Cavendish.’
‘And to you. We shall see you tomorrow at the service. You’ll return with us to the Hall for lunch as usual, of course.’
‘Thank you again for your invitation.’ Turning he joined the villagers as they marched up the long driveway towards the nearby village of Little Gloston. Cavendish stayed to watch them until they were out of sight and then returned to the Hall where Curtis and the other staff were busy clearing up. Rather than getting in the way, he went into the library.
Kit, Strangerson and the two Cavendish girls soon joined Lord Cavendish in the library also. Lady Emily went to her room, deciding that she was fatigued from a busy morning. Eventually, after some deliberation, Henry decided to join his cousins in the library also.
‘They’re fine portraits, sir’ said Strangerson, as Cavendish entered.
‘Indeed. Sargent really captured Katherine.’ The heartbreak in Cavendish’s voice was evident. ‘I remember when Lavery came to paint the boys. We had wanted two portraits, but he insisted it would be better they were together. He was right. They were such good friends, not just brothers.’
‘You can see it in the painting.’ said Strangerson. ‘This is very much the Robert I remember. I never met John, sadly.’
‘Oh, they were very different,’ said Cavendish, ‘in so many ways and yet unmistakably brothers. Both had such a sense of duty to family and to country. I was tremendously proud of them. John was much more serious whereas Robert, well, he had a streak in him certainly, but he was good for all that.’
Kit stood apart from the group with Henry looking at some of the books in the library. Over the years, the Cavendish family had built up an extensive collection of books on philosophy, science and mathematics. He noticed Henry took down from the bookshelves a couple of books on chemical subjects. These were heavyweight tomes and it surprised Kit that Henry might even understand them, never mind be interested.
‘I’m sure your mother has your best interests at heart but if this is what you would like to do…’ Kit left the sentence unfinished. Henry glanced up at him. His face remained inscrutable. Persevering, Kit added, ‘My parents were against me doing mathematics and modern languages, I insisted, however. They went with my wishes in the end. I certainly have no regrets in my choices. I learned a great deal and met some fascinating individuals along the way.’
This seemed to reach Henry. ‘Oh. Who?’
‘Bertrand Russell for one. A brilliant philosopher and mathematician.’
‘And conscientious objector,’ added Henry sourly.
‘True but I respected his stance, even if I disagreed with him. I also knew Lawrence.’
For the first time, Henry seemed genuinely engaged in a conversation. ‘Really?’
‘Yes, we met at Cambridge and our paths crossed once during the war. I can’t really tell you more, I think it will remain hush, hush for a few years, but maybe one day.’ This disappointed Henry, but he let it go.
The group by the portraits looked over at Kit and Henry. ‘What are you two talking about?’ asked Mary conspiratorially.
‘Well we covered, chemistry, mathematics, philosophy and conscientious objection,’ responded Kit.
‘Gosh, in only a few minutes. You clever chaps don’t hang around,’ piped up Strangerson.
Henry continued to review the books on the shelf, taking a couple down to leaf through. One of the books Henry looked at caused Kit to raise his eyebrow but he said nothing. A voice from across the room called to him.
‘Have you seen the portraits, Kit?’ asked Cavendish.
Kit felt the room close in around him and begin to swirl around. His breathing became laboured and the familiar cold sweat erupted like lava from his pores. Attempting to deal with this wave head on, he slowly moved over towards the group and looked up at the portrait of Katherine, avoiding the other painting featuring the Cavendish brothers. The attacks were usually at night in his dreams, rarely, if ever did it come during the day. However, he had expected something. Coming to Cavendish Hall was always meant to be a signal to his mind that he would resist and refuse to submit.
‘Beautiful, sir. She was very beautiful. Sargent has really captured her.’
‘I know. Even the mouth.’
Kit smiled at Cavendish’s joke about Sargent. Then he glanced at the portrait of the boys before returning his gaze quickly towards Cavendish. ‘Remarkable likenesses of your boys.’ He felt his throat tightening and he prayed the group did not hear the catch in his voice.
It had been a mistake to come. What had he been thinking? How he regretted this decision now. He gripped a nearby seat as his legs began to feel weak. His breathing became increasingly difficult and he fought hard to give a semblance of control. Slowly breathe in, breathe out, he told himself. Very soon he felt back in control. The tightness passed away and his breathing eased into its regular rhythm.
‘Are you feeling well Kit? You look quite pale,’ This was Mary.
‘I’m fine really thank you, but sometimes my leg can trouble me.’
‘Of course, Kit, we’re terribly selfish,’ said
Cavendish looking with concern at Kit.
‘Nonsense, sir, I couldn’t be with more considerate, indeed beautiful, company. And that’s just Strangerson.’ Everyone in the room laughed and Kit felt this was an opportunity to escape the room, to escape the image. ‘If you don’t mind, I think maybe I shall take some air with Sam. I shall be down later.’
‘Of course, old chap.’ said Cavendish. With a nod to Esther and Mary he left the room. In the hallway, he was enveloped with a sense of relief. He took a deep breath and a few moments to regain his self-possession. There was nothing for it. He was here now and would have to make the best of this situation, but he knew the ghosts of the past few years would visit him again soon.
Chapter 7
Kit went out to the grounds at the back of the house accompanied by Miller and Sam. The little terrier was let off the lead, always an open invitation for him to go sprinting off and chase birds. The two men followed slowly behind. Snow covered the ground but, as yet, it was not so thick as to make walking difficult. They tracked up the main path through the gardens towards the woodland created by Brown. Sam happily chased the few birds pecking at the snow in the field.
When they reached the woodland, they turned and looked at Cavendish Hall. They were now around four hundred yards away at the bottom of a slight incline. The fields and gardens seemed to be part of a white world. On one side of the Hall they could see the stables in the distance. On another side there was a small cottage. There were signs of disturbance in the white canvas made by the footsteps of Kit, Miller and Sam. It looked like there were also tracks from the Hall to the stables.
The air was cold and silver and seemed visible as both men breathed. ‘It’s not exactly the most beautiful looking house I have ever seen,’ observed Miller.
‘It’s hideous. What on earth were they thinking?’ agreed Kit
‘The garden is quite nice though, I’m sure it looks amazing in spring and summer. Look over there. Seems like a nice cottage,’ said Miller pointing. In the distance was a small cottage with smoke coming out of the chimney. ‘I wonder who lives there.’
