Pride of the Courtneys

by Margaret Dickinson

  As we passed through the long corridors peeping into the grand bedrooms, Georgiana chattered gaily about the house, the furniture or the family.

  When we went down to the first floor in the front wing of the house and into the long portrait gallery, she began to relate the family history of each portrait.

  ‘This is Grandmother Courtney. See, Bassett looks like her, or rather the male edition of her looks. I’m supposed to, too, but she’s far more beautiful.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ I assured her, ‘you’re the image of her.’

  And she was.

  ‘She was a very dominant person, strong and purposeful, just like Bassett,’ Georgiana continued, ‘but she was very hard and bitter, so father says. Grandfather didn’t make her very happy. It was an arranged marriage—history repeats itself.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Why—mother and father, of course. But you know all about that.’

  ‘No, I don’t.’

  Georgiana’s expression altered immediately.

  ‘Then I have said too much, Louella, please forget it. Come,’ and she urged me towards the next picture.

  ‘This is Grandfather Courtney. Like father and Uncle James, isn’t he?’

  Looking at the portrait, it was like seeing Uncle James again. A lump came to my throat.

  ‘He is certainly like Uncle James,’ I murmured.

  ‘But he wasn’t as nice as father and Uncle. They are pets, absent-minded, but very sweet. But this one …’ Georgiana shook her head, ‘He was a philanderer and a spendthrift. If it hadn’t been for Grandmother Courtney, we shouldn’t have any wealth at all. As it is, with Bassett being like her and taking over now, we’re getting richer and richer and richer.’

  And she danced gaily down the long gallery, clapping her hands.

  ‘Oh how I do chatter on,’ she laughed, and she ran back and threw her arms about me. ‘ But it is so lovely to have someone to talk to, a real sister at last.’

  Her face sobered.

  ‘Louella, promise me that whatever anyone says to you or the way they treat you, try not to let it worry you. Promise?’

  I could not understand what she meant, but I could see by the seriousness of her voice and by the look in her eyes that she was genuinely concerned about something.

  ‘Of course, but why …?’

  ‘Never mind, come we’ll go and see father.’

  And again her cheerful, vital self, she pulled me away from the gallery, through a maze of passages and rooms to a small study on the ground floor.

  As I stepped inside the cluttered room a small, middle-aged man glanced briefly over his spectacles at us. The dog, lying at his feet, barked a welcome.

  ‘Ah Georgiana. And who is your friend?’

  ‘Now, father, you remember. This is Louella Lloyd, you knew she was coming to live with us.’

  The startled look in Sir Hugh’s eyes and the fleeting expression, almost of pain shocked me. But then he got up and ambled towards me beaming pleasantly.

  ‘My dear child, how welcome you are. My, my, Louella Lloyd, eh?’

  And he shook his head in wonderment. At what, I did not understand.

  ‘You’re very beautiful, my dear, just like your mother.’

  ‘You knew my mother?’ I asked, delighted to find someone who could perhaps tell me more about the mother I had never known.

  ‘Oh—I—yes,’ he cleared his throat and turned away, obviously not wanting to discuss it. At the same time, I felt Georgiana’s gentle hand on my arm pull me towards the door. As we left the room, Sir Hugh still muttered.

  ‘A long time ago—a very long time ago.’

  His shoulders hunched, his hand dithering, he suddenly looked years older than a few moments ago.

  ‘Come, Louella, we must go,’ Georgiana whispered and then raised her voice, ‘See you at dinner, father,’ and closed the door behind us.

  ‘Father rambles a little, take no notice,’ she smiled.

  ‘But he said he knew my mother,’ I began, but Georgiana changed the subject, deliberately, it seemed.

  ‘I think you have seen most of the house now, except the gardens, of course. But I should go and make sure Mary has done your unpacking. Change for dinner and come down to the dining-room in about half an hour.’

  And with that she left me to find my own way back upstairs.

  As I reached the first landing, I heard the heavy front door open and someone stride into the hall. I peeped over the banister.

  A tall, dark man stood in the hall, handing his riding crop and hat to the butler. The top of his thick, black hair shone, and as he moved I could see his skin was weatherbeaten to a deep tan. He was very tall, one of the tallest men I had ever seen, very broad and he looked very strong.

  As if I had spoken to him he looked up suddenly and saw me. Our eyes met and held. But he did not smile. His face, not particularly handsome, though

  ruggedly masculine was stern.

  ‘You are Louella Lloyd, I suppose,’ his voice resounded through

  the hall.

  ‘Yes,’ was all I could reply.

  This man disturbed me, and suddenly I realised why. This was

  the man about whom I had heard so much. This was the Master

  of Courtney Hall.

  Bassett Courtney had arrived home.

  Chapter Two

  It seemed a long time that we stood merely staring at each other. He, tall and stern-looking, in the hall of his home. I, a frightened unwelcome creature, peeping down foolishly over the banister from the top of the wide, sweeping stairs.

  His rich baritone voice rang again through the hall making me jump.

  ‘Come down, Miss Lloyd, and introduce yourself.’

  His tone was so commanding, so befitting the master of Courtney Hall, that I obeyed demurely.

  Nervously I went down and not until I stood before him did he speak again, this time towering above me.

  His critical eye swept me up and down, and still he did not smile.

  ‘So you are Louella Lloyd?’ He seemed to speak to himself more than to me, but it would be impolite not to reply I supposed.

  ‘Y—yes, how do you do, Mr Courtney,’ and I tried to smile weakly.

  ‘How do you do, Miss Lloyd,’ his grin was strong and warm. ‘Then you know who I am?’

  And then, without warning like the sun breaking through on a storm-tossed world, Bassett Courtney smiled.

  ‘Welcome to Courtney Hall, Louella, I do hope you will be happy here.’

  Ordinary words, yes, but the way in which Bassett voiced them, the manner in which he held out his hand and clasped mine gently but warmly, held such sincerity that my sensed reeled.

  ‘I shall call you Louella since you are now one of the family.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ I could hardly stammer.

  ‘And you must call me Bassett.’

  ‘But,’ I blurted out, ‘Lady Courtney, your mother, said I should call you Mr Courtney.’

  He frowned and his face regained its former seriousness.

  ‘I say you are to call me Bassett, that clear? Now, I expect you have to dress for dinner,’ he said, ‘ see you then.’

  And with that he left me, his long strides taking him swiftly down the long hall and into the drawing-room.

  How diverse were the welcomes I had received. Lady Courtney—cold and openly hostile. Georgiana—joyously. Sir Hugh—shocked and bewildered, and now Basset—with warmth. Which, I asked myself, was the least expected? It was difficult to decide.

  I did not feel quite so apprehensive as before. Georgiana was most certainly a friend, and Bassett was not a man who would feign an act of welcome. Though I could not help but fear him, his eyes were the most honest eyes I had ever seen. He was a man to be admired, I thought, but not to be crossed.

  I returned to my room and from my few clothes I chose a brown velvet gown, which I considered most suitable for my first appearance at the Courtney table—unassuming, yet not lacking i
n elegance.

  Accustomed to dressing myself without the help of a personal maid, I was ready for dinner with ten minutes to spare. I had not, I realised, had time to inspect the view from my room. I crossed the room and stood before the long window.

  Although I had been given a back room, the view far surpassed my wildest hopes.

  Immediately below my window a smooth lawn sloped gently down towards an orchard still richly laden with pink and white blossom. Beyond this glimmered the lake in the evening sun, and again beyond this the soft outline of purple hills. Tranquillity reigned supreme. I would have been content to stay there until the light faded and as it was, I was still staring breathlessly at the scene when the dinner gong sounded.

  Dinner proved to be worse than I had imagined. For to add to my nervousness at being confronted by all the Courtney family at once, I found there were two guests for dinner.

  Dr Charles Corby and his sister, Evelyn, were newcomers to the district and Bassett Courtney, being the squire, had asked them to dine as a note of welcome to his village.

  Dr Corby was a young man of fair complexion. His face was handsome with finely chiselled features, and his expression was one of keen alertness. His eyes held the compassion and knowledge of so many dedicated to his profession. His sister, a little older than he, I guessed, was a plain girl, whose main asset was her fine brown eyes. She seemed quiet and withdrawn, even sulky. Her dress was unbecoming, though of good material.

  I wondered why any girl of her age should show such a positive lack of interest in her appearance, for although neat, the whole effect was of a dull personality.

  Lady Courtney made the introductions.

  ‘This, Miss Corby, Dr Corby, is Louella Lloyd. The poor child has had the misfortune to be left a penniless orphan. My husband’s brother has cared for her for many years, and now, his duty no doubt long expired, he has sought happiness in re-marriage and subsequent emigration.’

  Here, whilst my cheeks slowly flamed, Lady Courtney paused significantly.

  ‘So my husband, and son, I might add, feel it their duty to give this girl a home until such time as we may find a husband willing to take her, poor as she is.’

  I realised it was unreasonable and unjust, but these were the words which sparked off my fear and dislike of Bassett Courtney. His mother’s words Implied that I owed everything to him, that but for his condescension and generosity, I should have been flung out on to the streets to live the life of many a ragged, orphaned urchin.

  My acute embarrassment was somewhat lessened when Dr Corby smiled kindly, squeezed my hand a little more than necessary in his handshake and said gallantly:

  ‘I’m sure, with such beauty, Miss Lloyd should have no difficulty in securing a husband.’

  The reactions of everyone in the room to this remark were varied. I saw Lady Courtney raise her eyebrows slightly. A startled gasp escaped Miss Corby’s lips—no doubt she was not used to hearing such forwardness from her gentle brother. But what dismayed me the most was that when I glanced at Georgiana, her expression was a mixture of hurt and anger.

  But as she caught my eyes, she quickly hid her feelings and smiled brightly, if not successfully.

  ‘She’s well enough, I suppose,’ Lady Courtney’s answer was grudging. ‘ No doubt my son will find a suitable husband for her amongst the smaller landowners in the village.’

  ‘A husband for whom, mother?’

  My heart lurched. No one had seen Bassett enter at that moment. I sighed inwardly. Now I had to suffer yet more shame before his arrogant eyes.

  ‘For Louella, of course. The sooner she is married, the better, as far as I can see.’

  Bassett frowned.

  ‘I don’t see that there is any reason to hurry the poor child into an unhappy marriage.’ He smiled sardonically at his mother. ‘ She’ll hardly eat us out of house and home, mother.’

  ‘Well, I sincerely hope you’re grateful to Mr Courtney,’ said Lady Courtney, turning to me. ‘There’s proof of his generosity indeed.’

  My temper, though dangerously frayed, I managed to control and I answered her quite calmly, and I hoped with the right degree of humility, though it was difficult to keep the sarcasm from my tone.

  ‘I am deeply indebted to Mr Courtney and to all of you for your kindness.’

  There was rather an awkward pause. I felt Bassett’s eyes upon me, but as I dared not meet his gaze I could not read his expression.

  The tense atmosphere was broken suddenly by the appearance of Sir Hugh Courtney.

  ‘Dear me, late again. I’m very sorry, Emily—Bassett.’

  ‘Don’t apologise, father. We were not ready ourselves.’

  I noticed the difference in Bassett’s tone when speaking to his father. It was gentle and respectful and gave no indication to a stranger that son, and not father, now held the status of head of the family.

  Even at dinner, Bassett and Sir Hugh were seated at either end of the long table, so that it would be difficult for the uninformed to know who presided over the family gathering.

  The conversation throughout the meal was centred upon the guests, and as I was not drawn into it, I ate in silence, not venturing to speak without invitation.

  The same occurred when the ladies withdrew to the drawing-room, whilst the gentlemen drank their port, though I was somewhat heartened when Georgiana squeezed my elbow as we passed down the hallway.

  Later, when the gentlemen rejoined us, Dr Corby deliberately seated himself next to me, and began asking me questions about myself.

  ‘We seem to have neglected you, Miss Lloyd. Come, tell me about yourself.’

  For some inexplicable reason, I felt the room grow cold and tense once more as the others fell silent. Lady Courtney glanced at her husband who In turn had fixed his attention upon me. As I met his gaze, it was as if he were seeing me for the first time. The same startled look crossed his face as when he had first seen me in his study. He breathed quickly and painfully.

  I was distressed. Undoubtedly, something about me disturbed him every time my presence was called to his attention.

  Lady Courtney, angered by the situation, sought to relieve the tension.

  ‘Miss Lloyd has had an uninteresting life, Dr Corby. I am sure nothing of her conversation would amuse you. Now come, you must have had many varied experiences by which we would be entertained.’

  ‘On the contrary,’ Dr Corby’s voice was polite, but no doubt he felt somewhat slighted, though not by me for I had had no chance of replying to his question. ‘My sister and I lived a very secluded life as children and since adolescence I myself have been so engrossed in work and study that I have seen very little of the outside world. Evelyn, too, in nursing our parents through their last illness, has allowed her youth to slip by unenjoyed.’

  Bassett smiled at Miss Corby.

  ‘I cannot agree that Miss Corby’s youth has slipped away. Surely, she is only just beginning to enjoy it.’

  Evelyn Corby smiled calmly, but the smile did not reach her eyes.

  ‘You are very gallant, Mr Courtney. I am not ashamed to admit to my age, nor wish to hide it, like many women. I am twenty-eight and unmarried, and, according to the fashion of the day, that is decidedly old and quite definitely past the marriageable age.’

  Bassett laughed, and it was as if the sun filled the room, sweeping away all sign of the tension of the previous few moments, between Sir Hugh and myself.

  ‘It is absurd, the idea of today that twenty-eight is old. Why, it is a wonderful age for a young woman. I am thirty and unmarried. Now that must be thought ancient. And by now I cannot, surely, even hope for matrimony.’

  Bassett’s rich laugh infected us all, and soon even Lady Courtney was smiling.

  ‘My dear Bassett,’ she said indulgently, ‘how plain it is to see you do not understand the ways of the world. While I beg you to believe me, Miss Corby, that I imply no insult to yourself for I think you very noble in your sacrifice to your parents, yet I must agree t
hat twenty-eight is a little too old to begin securing a husband. However, let me hasten to assure you that you do not look a day over twenty-three, and there are plenty of young women unmarried at twenty-three.’

  ‘You are very kind, Lady Courtney, to reassure me. But to be quite honest, I am not really interested in marriage. I am happy to care for Charles and keep house for him. A busy doctor needs an efficient homemaker.’

  ‘But what if your brother should marry, Miss Corby?’ Lady Courtney enquired.

  Miss Corby hesitated and I thought a look of pain crossed her face.

  ‘I am trained as a governess, I should not hesitate to seek employment. I would not wish to be a burden upon Charles.’ And as she spoke I felt her glance at me—no doubt thinking of the burden I had become upon the Courtneys.

  ‘Now, Evelyn, there is no need for such morbid talk,’ said Charles.

  ‘Really, Charles,’ Miss Corby seemed distressed now. ‘I have said too much already. Please, let us change the subject.’

  Her discomfort, however, was short-lived for as Dr Corby left my side to talk to Lady Courtney and Georgiana joined them, I saw Bassett seat himself beside Evelyn and engage her in conversation.

  Sir Hugh busied himself with a book at the far end of the room, and I was once more left alone.

  After a few moments I slipped quietly and unobserved from their company and went to my room.

  I was pleased to escape. The morning’s parting from Uncle James, the various welcomes at Courtney Hall and tensions at dinner and afterwards had left me exhausted.

  Within half-an-hour, I was in bed and just before I fell asleep, my last thoughts were of Bassett Courtney.

  This proud, arrogant man over-awed me. I knew, without good reason, I did not like him. In his presence I felt a foolish, blushing child. And yet, it was because of him that I was here, cared-for and comfortable in beautiful surroundings. I ought to be grateful to him, but somehow my heart ruled my head and I could not, would not, like Bassett Courtney, because my pride rebelled against my dependence upon him for my livelihood.

  The next morning I awoke with none of the forebodings with which I had fallen asleep. The sun streamed in through the window as Mary drew back the heavy curtains.