Pride of the Courtneys

by Margaret Dickinson

  Bassett opened the huge door. I glanced up at his face. He wore a stern forbidding frown. We stepped out and stood looking down on Georgiana and Charles, whose eyes went straight to Bassett as if trying to read their fate, for they knew with whom it rested.

  Though I smiled warmly in their direction, they were not looking at me. Drawn by their regard, I turned to look at Bassett myself. His expression had not altered.

  My heart sank. Surely this callous man was not going to turn away his own flesh and blood? Was there no love in him for his own sister even?

  ‘Well, Louella,’ Bassett said softly, so that no one else could possibly hear, ‘and what is our reply to this entreaty for forgiveness?’

  ‘Welcome them home, Bassett, please.’

  ‘Do you ask that as your wedding gift?’

  ‘Gladly.’

  He smiled suddenly, and again the sun shone on a grey world.

  ‘Then we shall.’

  He raised his voice.

  ‘Welcome home, Georgiana, welcome home, Charles.’ And he stretched out his right hand to them.

  Georgiana and Charles leapt forward. Charles to clasp Bassett’s hand and Georgiana to fall, almost weeping with joy, into my arms.

  All this while, Lady Courtney and Sir Hugh had stood behind us. I could not know what they were thinking, or what their wishes were, but following our lead, Sir Hugh came ambling forward to bestow kisses on his daughter, and Lady Courtney allowed herself to be greeted dutifully by Georgiana and her new son-in-law.

  The happiness of the reunion with my dear Georgiana and Charles, the joy with which I heard of their marriage, their short honeymoon and their excited plans, was soon overshadowed by another arrival at Courtney Hall.

  The next morning Millicent returned to Courtney Hall in readiness for the wedding.

  The easier relationship which I had enjoyed briefly with Lady Courtney ceased immediately. Millicent’s treachery was at work again, and it affected not only Lady Courtney, but also Bassett, for he hardly spoke half a dozen words to me from the moment of Millicent’s arrival until our wedding day.

  Chapter Eight

  My wedding day dawned as perfect as any bride could wish for. From my window, I watched the fingers of early morning sun creep across the lake and light the glowing autumn colours on the woodland slopes beyond. The gentlest of breezes softly whispered across the grass, rippling it like soft waves on a green ocean. Even the birds sang a dawn chorus, solely for my benefit.

  I was awake early and occupied with my own thoughts when Mary brought my breakfast on a tray.

  Courtney brides, even unwelcome ones, were treated with tenderness and indulgence.

  ‘It’s the most beautiful day, miss. Aren’t you lucky?’

  I smiled wryly, but agreed with her. The girl was as excited as if it were her own wedding day.

  But how could she know that this was the day I had dreaded for weeks? This meant, for me, the end of all freedom.

  Later, as I dressed, I noticed the slight colour in my cheeks, the brightness of my eyes only enhanced my appearance. These outward bridal signs were not caused by happy anticipation, but by fear, cold and reasoned.

  I feared the final bond which bound me irrevocably to the Courtneys.

  The mirror told me I looked as well as most brides—would that my heart matched my appearance, I thought.

  The wedding dress was a work of art on the part of the little dressmaker. The bodice had a waistcoat front of finely pleated satin with delicate lace flounces on the sleeves and a stand-up collar. A flower-sprigged brocade formed an overdress which draped itself over the bustle and fell in soft folds to a train. The delicate veil was held in place by traditional orange blossom forming a high headdress.

  Mary was my only companion that morning, for no one must see my bridal array until I left my room on my way to church.

  Mary fussed round me, and I was grateful for her excited chatter.

  Ready half-an-hour before I had to leave, I persuaded her to go and get ready herself.

  ‘Are you sure, miss? I don’t like leavin’ you, really. You look—well—nervous, miss.’

  I smiled. Perhaps Mary guessed a little of what I was feeling, but did not like to put it into words.

  ‘Mary, you have helped me enormously—but I am perfectly prepared, now. Off you go or you’ll miss the service.’

  Alone once more, I stood at the long window of my room. This window, at the back of the great house, looked upon nothing of the flurrying carriages and coaches, which I knew were leaving at the front of the house. My panorama was peaceful, sunlit countryside. The trees, still clothed in their autumnal leaves, rustled gently and the river glimmered in the sunlight.

  The countryside was happy and so beautiful that I felt a lump in my throat.

  I thought of Aunt Virginia and Uncle James and longed for their comforting presence on this dreadful day. My letter to Uncle James, an impassioned plea for his help, for his permission to join him in Canada, lay unposted in my writing bureau. Later, I should destroy it. Every day, I had tried to find the courage to send it. But somehow, the pride which held my tears in check, also forbade that I should beg and plead for favours.

  I was already the unwilling recipient of too many Courtney favours.

  For some strange, twisted reason of his own, Bassett had demanded that I married him. I was certain, now, that he was using me as a means of avoiding marriage with Millicent; a means to avoid hurting the girl in a blunt fashion; a means to thwart his mother’s plans; and perhaps even a means of quelling the rebellious spirit of the orphan who had arrived, unwelcomed, on his doorstep.

  To rebel against a marriage which promised a reasonable security and a high standard of living was unthought of, especially one which led to the luxurious living of the mistress of Courtney Hall. But what of happiness?

  In that half hour as I waited in my bridal gown, I firmly believed that the happiness I had known in my life when I had lived with Aunt Virginia and Uncle James was far behind me, and that I should never taste such happiness again.

  Suddenly, I longed for Georgiana’s company, and Charles’ too. They had some affection for me, I thought. I forced myself to forget my self-pity and to count my fortunes.

  I smiled wryly to myself.

  At least plain Louella Lloyd was not to be left an old maid. At least I was entering the honourable state of marriage. I would be well established and comfortable.

  But still—I could not forget my dislike of the man I had to marry.

  I shuddered to think that I had to submit to this man’s every demand, and I dreaded my wedding night.

  A gentle tap on the bedroom door disturbed my troubled thoughts.

  ‘ ’Tis time for you to come down, now, miss,’ Mary’s excited face peered round the door. ‘ There be only Dr Corby waiting to take you to church.’

  I picked up my bouquet of red roses, carefully, whilst Mary came forward to adjust the gossamer veil over my face.

  Slowly, almost regally, we descended the stairs.

  Charles stood in the hall, resplendent in his new suit. As I had no relation near, Charles was to give me away.

  His face was sober. I wondered what could be amiss. My heart lurched. Was something wrong between Georgiana and him. There was such an odd expression in his eyes.

  Mary slipped away down the passage to hurry across the field to the little church standing in the Courtney parklands, only a short distance from the Hall.

  Still Charles did not speak but continued to stare at me.

  ‘Charles …’ I began hesitantly.

  He jumped visibly.

  ‘Louella—forgive me—I was beginning to wonder if you were real. My dear, I never realised how beautiful you would look.’

  ‘Bless you, Charles. But I don’t need flattery to give me courage—I am quite resigned.’

  A small frown crossed his face, then he smiled.

  ‘Dear Louella, who has given me so much happiness with my dearest
Georgiana, when will you learn to distinguish truth from flattery? But come, we must away. Your golden coach awaits, princess.’

  And so, with Charles’ strange mood dispelled and his buoyant spirit restored, we left Courtney Hall—I for the last time as Miss Louella Lloyd.

  It seemed that all the residents of Courtney village were milling round the church. They waved, smiled and shouted greetings and good wishes. I was moved by their friendliness.

  The organ notes, muted and solemn, met us as we alighted from the coach and stepped into the porch.

  The church door opened and we waited briefly whilst Georgiana, as my matron of honour, took her place behind us.

  I could not help a stab of envy as I saw the loving look which passed between Charles and Georgiana, and their quick touching of hands.

  A stir of expectancy ran through the packed church as the organist strode purposefully into the Bridal March. The congregation rose as we entered through the west door and walked solemnly up the aisle.

  I kept my eyes fixed firmly on the Altar, far away under the glowing stained-glass window.

  We reached the steps, the vicar moved forward to meet us and I felt Bassett move to my side.

  All my life I had dreamed of this moment when I would arrive at this place, look up and meet the eyes of the man I loved.

  But that was my dream.

  And this was reality.

  I had arrived, but I did not look up to meet Bassett’s eyes. I kept my gaze straight ahead and met the kindly eyes of the ageing vicar.

  I have ever since regretted that I did not greet my bridegroom in the customary way, for perhaps then we might, in that solemn, awe-inspiring moment, have found a mutual understanding.

  But my foolish stubbornness once more prevented me from displaying any of the normal reactions of a happy bride.

  I would not disgrace the Courtneys with sulkiness, but neither would I pretend to feel that which I did not.

  And so the service began. The beautiful words flowed on, ringing through the sunlit. Holy place in the vicar’s deep tones. I think I made a silent prayer that perhaps one day, the vow I took now would cease to be the mockery it was.

  I understood the feelings of numerous girls and women who had stood thus, at a stranger’s side, a man chosen by her parents and who had to promise to ‘love, honour and obey’ him until death.

  The service seemed to be over very quickly and we were stepping into the bright sunlight once more, now as man and wife. I smiled and acknowledged the greetings of our guests and the villagers, but though I felt Bassett’s eyes upon me from time to time, not once would I glance in his direction. The only acknowledgement I made of his presence, in fact, was my hand upon his arm.

  The next few hours were to me a blur of faces, a cacophony of voices wishing us happiness, and a mountain of food at the grand banquet little of which I felt like eating.

  Bassett had decided that we should not leave the estate for a honeymoon, for there was a great deal of work on hand for him with the harvesting of his lands. We were merely to take up immediate residence in the suite of rooms which had been redecorated and furnished as our own home. Though, naturally, Bassett, as unofficial master of Courtney, would continue to direct his business from his study—the hub of the Courtney estate.

  I had never in my life seen such grandeur as was displayed at my wedding. The Courtneys had certainly spared no expense, neither had the guests, it seemed, in their dress.

  Millicent looked really beautiful for she wore a gown of midnight blue satin, the slim fitting accentuating her tiny waist. The dark colour enhanced her fragile, fair beauty. Though I knew I looked as well as I could in my wedding dress, I could not help feeling inferior beside Millicent. I wondered whether or not Bassett was making a comparison and realising how much more justice Millicent would have done to my gown. Perhaps, even now, he might be regretting his hasty decision.

  At last the exacting day was over and as I stepped out of my finery in the dressing-room adjoining the bridal chamber, an involuntary shudder shook me as I pictured the years of misery which lay ahead of me. Marriage, so I believed, was sacred and for ever. I felt ashamed and guilty to think that our marriage was a shallow tying together of two people who felt no love for each other. But, I comforted myself, so many marriages of convenience lacked true love, at least at the outset. Some, luckily, grew to love, but for every one that did, there was certainly one which did not.

  I was weary with the day’s ceremonies, tired of being looked upon as the happy, blushing bride, when, in fact, I was inwardly still seething with anger against the man who had brought it about—Bassett Courtney.

  With Mary’s help once more, I changed into the finely embroidered nightgown. Now we were in the suite of rooms prepared for Bassett and his bride. Bassett had arranged that we had separate but adjoining bedrooms. So it was that I sat in my bedroom, after Mary had left me, fearfully watching the communicating door which I knew would open.

  The room was tastefully decorated and furnished in the luxurious style typical of the Courtneys, and the bed, from which I kept my frightened eyes averted, was ornamented and heavily quilted with fine, embroidered silk.

  A gentle tap sounded on the communicating door and without waiting for a reply, it opened and the master of Courtney Hall stood there.

  It seemed an age that we stared at each other, Bassett with a cold mask of indifference on his face—I showing my fear plainly. He came towards me slowly and I felt panic surge up inside me, but I willed myself to calmness and met his gaze steadfastly.

  Bassett stretched out his hand and touched my cheek tenderly in a caress. I was surprised at a display of gentleness from him, but still the hard expression on his face remained.

  ‘Poor child,’ he said softly, ‘forced to marry a man you despise.’

  It was not a question but a statement and I did not contradict him. He touched my hair and his hand rested lightly on my shoulder.

  ‘I make no further demands upon you, Louella,’ he said, his voice strangely hoarse, as if he were suffering stress, ‘until such time as you might—wish it.’

  Abruptly he turned and left me, and the door to his room closed behind him.

  The emotions of the day, this last unexpected act of gallantry by Bassett, were too much to bear.

  I fell into bed. And I, who never wept, sobbed myself to sleep.

  Life at Courtney Hall began to revert to normal, that is, in most respects. I was treated as I had been when I first arrived. There were slight differences, of course.

  I was now Mrs Courtney—though in name only—and the servants and villagers treated me with the respect which my newly acquired name demanded.

  Millicent, a frequent visitor to the Hall, was hardly ever absent from it for long. She and Lady Courtney still derided and scorned me whenever possible, so that I avoided their company as much as I could. This was easier than before, now that Bassett and I had the west wing of the great house as our own suite of rooms, though Bassett used them little.

  I, on the other hand, was glad of a means of escape and my rooms were my castle.

  Georgiana and Charles came to live at Courtney Hall eventually as life in the Corby house, with Evelyn, began to put a great strain upon their marriage. The Courtneys had now forgiven Georgiana and Charles for their elopement and had in fact accepted Charles completely. So the east wing of the Hall was put aside for their use. My friendship with them in those lonely days was, I believe, the only thing which saved my sanity. But I could not presume too much on their time for a young couple so much in love needed to be alone, and as Charles was fast becoming the most popular doctor in the surrounding district, their leisure moments were few.

  I hardly saw my husband for when he was not engaged in the affairs of the estate he delighted in accompanying either Millicent or Evelyn on carriage expeditions or riding.

  Never once did he ask me to go with him. Never once did he give any explanation of his activities. He seems to delight,
I thought angrily as I watched Bassett, Evelyn and Millicent ride away one afternoon, in ignoring me now. Safely married, he can now flirt with whom he pleases.

  I felt the tears prick my eyelids. It’s not that I’m jealous of them, I told myself, for jealousy surely only arises from love, but to be spurned thus—what must the villagers be saying?

  But it was probable that the villagers, if they did see him in the company of either Millicent or Evelyn or both, saw nothing wrong, for was not Millicent his cousin and Evelyn his sister-in-law almost? And no villager, all of whom without exception I knew worshipped their young master, would think ill of Bassett until it hit them in the face.

  During the next few weeks I passed through a dreadful time of loneliness and depression.

  Married to a man I loathed, branded by his mother as an unwanted burden and a thief, and always, lurking in the background, was the mystery surrounding my mother and the Courtney family.

  Lady Courtney still retained full charge of the household management and there was little for me to do.

  It was during this time that I became closer than ever to Sir Hugh. During the warm days of autumn he would often, when he could tear himself away from his books, take walks with me, usually along the river bank.

  He was a gentle man and he delighted in talking about the poets and writers whose works he loved.

  Occasionally, he would mention his family, but only some casual remark about recent happenings. Though I longed to ask him about the mystery which seemed to surround myself and the Courtneys, I dare not broach the subject directly, and though I was sometimes able to turn the conversation towards the Courtney ancestry, never, unfortunately, did Sir Hugh let slip any remark which would throw light upon the matter for me.

  It was when the weather began to turn considerably colder towards the beginning of November that I first noticed a marked change in Sir Hugh’s health. His hands began to shake and his speech was sometimes slurred. No other member of the family seemed to notice this and I said nothing as I told myself it was probably merely a sign of his age and not of ill health.