Amberwell
D. E. Stevenson
© D. E. Stevenson 1955
D. E. Stevenson has asserted her rights under the Copyright, Design and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.
First published in 1955. First issued in 1966 by Fontana Books.
This edition published in 2015 by Endeavour Press Ltd.
Table of Contents
PART ONE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
2
3
4
CHAPTER THREE
2
CHAPTER FOUR
2
3
CHAPTER FIVE
2
3
4
CHAPTER SIX
2
3
PART TWO
CHAPTER SEVEN
2
CHAPTER EIGHT
2
3
CHAPTER NINE
2
3
CHAPTER TEN
2
3
4
CHAPTER ELEVEN
2
3
4
CHAPTER TWELVE
2
3
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
2
PART THREE
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
2
3
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
2
3
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
2
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
2
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
2
3
CHAPTER NINETEEN
2
3
CHAPTER TWENTY
2
3
4
PART FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
2
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
2
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
2
3
4
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
2
3
4
5
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
2
3
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
2
3
4
PART ONE
When the voices of children are heard on the green,
And laughing is heard on the hill.
WILLIAM BLAKE
CHAPTER ONE
William Ayrton was born in Edinburgh in 1745. It was a stormy year in the capital of Scotland but the storms did not affect the Ayrton family, for William’s father was a wine merchant with a comfortable business which was his chief concern. He was a merchant, not a politician, and as long as he could buy good wine and sell it to his customers at a profit he cared little who sat upon the throne. He steered a careful course through the angry seas and his business thrived exceedingly so he was able to give his elder children a good start in life. William was the seventh child, and an unexpected addition to the family, so by the time he grew to man’s estate there was no money left to launch him on a career. He had nothing to depend upon but his own energy and capabilities — fortunately he had plenty of both.
It seemed to young William that India offered him the best chance of making his fortune.
At first it seemed to William that India was disappointing and he realised that it offered no easy road to wealth but he was clever and very persevering, he worked hard and used his brain, and after some years of struggle he became a partner in an export firm and settled down to make his fortune in good earnest.
From his earliest days William Ayrton’s ambition had been to become a landed gentleman and to found a family. To modern ears this ambition may sound peculiar in the extreme, but in the more spacious times of William Ayrton it was a laudable ambition and not in the least unusual; in fact many respectable families were founded in the same way, by a man of parts with initiative and foresight.
Time rolled on and money rolled in until, at the age of fifty, William Ayrton had amassed sufficient capital to retire from business and carry out his plan. By now he had a wife and three children, so the family was well under way, and the only problem to be solved was where to buy his land and build his house.
After some discussion the Ayrtons decided to settle in the South West of Scotland (the Ayrton family had its roots in that part of the country) and having found a delightful site they engaged a young architect who was willing to carry out their ideas. Mr. Ayrton had very definite ideas as to what he wanted; he had thought about his house and dreamt about this house since he was a boy.
The property was situated in a fold of the hills and sloped gently down to the sea. It consisted of meadows and a little wood and some moorland; there was a well, built of glowing yellow stone, which was fed by a spring and was always full of ice-cold water. The water itself was as clear as crystal but the reflection of the stone gave it the appearance of amber … it was this well which gave the property its name, Amberwell.
To William Ayrton one of the chief attractions of his new home was the water, for having spent nearly thirty years in India he valued water — and especially crystal-clear water — very highly indeed. Another attraction was the sheltered position and the mild climate which would enable him to grow sub-tropical plants. Mrs. Ayrton approved of Amberwell too, but for other reasons. It was delightfully secluded but not too isolated; just over the hill lay the little town of Westkirk — a pleasant little town with good shops and an efficient doctor. There were several charming properties in the vicinity, so they would not lack neighbours. Mrs. Ayrton could find no fault with her husband’s choice. This being so the matter was settled, he bought the land and built his house.
There was nothing pretentious about Amberwell House, it was comfortable and commodious and fitted in with its surroundings; the gardens were laid out with good judgment; there was stabling for four horses, a coachhouse and several cottages. Amberwell was by no means a palace but it was definitely “a place” and its owner was well satisfied with it. Mr. Ayrton’s family was equally satisfactory; six children grew up at Amberwell.
The gardens had been designed with a view to the future and as the years passed and Ayrton succeeded Ayrton various improvements were carried out. It became a tradition in the family that each new owner should make some definite contribution to the amenities of the place. Roger Ayrton made a walled garden for fruit and vegetables and put up greenhouses in a sheltered corner. In one of the greenhouses he planted a vine with his own hands — there was a pleasant little ceremony on this occasion. Stephen Ayrton laid out a bowling-green and surrounded it with a fine yew hedge. At one end of the broad lawn he made a raised grass platform, like a stage, with a stone balustrade and two wide steps leading up to it, so that those who were not taking part could sit there comfortably and watch the hotly contested ends. Gentlemen came from far and wide to enjoy a game of bowls with Stephen Ayrton and on summer afternoons the ladies would join the party and tea would be served on the little stage.
After Stephen came Henry who had gone out to America in early youth and made a packet of money in land development. When he inherited Amberwell he returned with large ideas and set to work without delay to improve his property. Henry was extremely up to date (for his times); he put in gas and hot water pipes all over the house. He built a stone terrace outside the drawing-room windows; he planted an orchard; and, still not content, he built a small Episcopal Church upon a piece of his own land which adjoined Westkirk … and at the same time he built a rectory for the incumbent. The church was a memorial to his father and was dedicated to St. Stephen. Henry was succeeded by his son, William Henry
.
By this time Amberwell had become old-fashioned and William the Second proceeded to modernise it completely. He installed electric light and an adequate number of bathrooms.
In this way Amberwell had grown and spread and under the cherishing care of its owners the gardens had become one of the beauty-spots of the district.
When William the Third inherited the property in 1924 one of the first things he thought of was his contribution to its amenities, but it was several years before he could decide what to do. He had been born at Amberwell and, during his childhood when his parents were abroad, he and his sisters had lived with their grandfather. They had dwelt securely in Amberwell House and had played in Amberwell gardens and to him the whole place seemed perfect. How were you to improve something which was already perfect?
The nurseries at Amberwell were on the top floor; they were large sunny rooms, somewhat shabby as regards furniture, but extremely comfortable. The nursery-flat was complete in itself with its own bathroom and its own staircase leading down to the garden. Generations of Ayrtons had inhabited these rooms and from them had been promoted to the drawing-room. As they grew up in stature they came down and took their places in the adult world. Sometimes the nurseries were full (for the Ayrtons believed in large families and liked to make sure that they would have no cause to be ashamed when they met their enemies at the gate); sometimes, for a while, the nurseries were empty. Then, as another generation came into its own, the nurseries would be full again.
The third Mr. William Ayrton had five children. Roger and Thomas were the children of his first wife (who had died when Thomas was born); Constance, Elinor and Anne were the daughters of his second wife — the present Mrs. Ayrton.
When Constance was born she was welcomed with enthusiasm by both her parents — it was delightful to have a little girl — but when her second daughter arrived Mrs. Ayrton was disappointed. Her third daughter was a disaster (there was no other word for it in Mrs. Ayrton’s opinion) for not only was the child of the wrong sex but she was positively ugly; a thin puling baby with a curiously broad forehead and no hair at all. Mrs. Ayrton took one look at the new arrival and then turned her head and wept.
“She’s a nice little baby,” said the nurse.
“No,” said Mrs. Ayrton between her sobs.
“Perhaps it will be a boy next time.”
“No,” said Mrs. Ayrton.
She had made up her mind there was to be no “next time.” Three babies in three years was enough. If she could have been certain that the next one would be a son … but it might be a girl … she was not going to risk it.
Soon after this Mr. Ayrton’s father died and the family moved to Amberwell and settled down.
The William Ayrtons had been settled at Amberwell for years and still Mr. Ayrton had not made up his mind what he could do to increase the value of his property. All sorts of suggestions had been offered by various members of his family but none of them seemed right. Of course Mr. Ayrton had already spent a good deal of money upon Amberwell; he had decorated the drawing-room and modernised the kitchen premises; the avenue, which was nearly half a mile long, had been remade, but these improvements, were necessary, but not spectacular. He wanted to leave his mark upon Amberwell for future generations to see.
Mrs. Ayrton understood this; she had been thinking about it seriously and although she agreed with her husband that Amberwell was very beautiful she was of the opinion that a lily-pool would enhance its attractions. Nobody had suggested a lily-pool, and the matter called for a great deal of tact. Mrs. Ayrton knew that unless her husband could be made to think that a lily-pool was his own idea he would not consider it for a moment.
It was early June. Dinner was over and dessert was on the table (a silver dish of scarlet strawberries which had been forced under glass, another dish of walnuts and a third of small russet apples — their skins a trifle wrinkled for they were last year’s, of course). Mr. and Mrs. Ayrton were alone in the quiet dining-room the windows of which were opened on to the terrace. The dinner had been unusually good and Mrs. Ayrton felt the moment was propitious.
“I was wondering whether you had decided definitely what you were going to do,” said Mrs. Ayrton. “You said something about a lily-pool, didn’t you? But perhaps an orchid-house would be better. I had a letter from Beatrice this morning; she thinks a rose-garden would be delightful. A rose-garden with a sun-dial —”
“Beatrice has nothing to do with it!” exclaimed Mr. Ayrton.
“No, of course not.”
There was a silence for a few moments, broken only by the crack of walnuts.
“I believe a lily-pool would be best,” said Mr. Ayrton at last. “As a matter of fact I can’t remember why we turned it down.”
Mrs. Ayrton said nothing.
“We could put it in the middle of the smaller lawn,” continued Mr. Ayrton thoughtfully. “It would look well there, with the grass all round it and the flowering shrubs and trees to make a background.”
Fortunately this was exactly the site Mrs. Ayrton had chosen for the lily-pool. “Do you think that would be better than an orchid-house?” she asked in a doubtful tone.
“There’s enough glass already,” replied Mr. Ayrton.
This was exactly Mrs. Ayrton’s view. “Perhaps you’re right,” she agreed.
“Of course I’m right. Gray has his hands full already. He would want another gardener if we had more glass.”
Mrs. Ayrton nodded. “Gray has a good deal to do. He spoke to me this morning about getting another boy. I said I would ask you about it.”
“Nonsense!” exclaimed Mr. Ayrton. “He’s got two men and a boy. That ought to be enough for a place of this size. Sir Andrew Findlater has three gardeners — that’s all — and Stark Place is twice the size of this.”
“You had better speak to Gray and tell him we can’t afford it,” suggested Mrs. Ayrton.
Mr. Ayrton smiled and poured out his second glass of port. “I shall tell him he can’t have another boy. There’s no need to give any reason. Never explain,” added Mr. Ayrton. “It was one of Disraeli’s sayings. Never explain.”
Mrs. Ayrton had heard this before. Disraeli might have coined the phrase but Mr. Ayrton had made it his own; he had repeated it at least twenty times to her certain knowledge. As a matter of fact she had taken the advice to heart and found it useful. If she had occasion to dismiss a housemaid, for instance, it saved a lot of trouble to dismiss her without any explanation.
But all this had taken Mr. and Mrs. Ayrton away from the lily-pool and Mrs. Ayrton was anxious to get the matter settled.
“We want something original — something that other people haven’t got.”
“Yes, of course. Had you thought of having a little fountain in the middle, William?”
The idea of a fountain had not occurred to William but he saw at once that a lily-pool without a fountain would be a poor affair. “Of course,” he said quickly. “We must certainly have a fountain — a stone dolphin, perhaps.”
Mrs. Ayrton sighed for she had set her heart upon a mermaid. She could see it in her mind’s eye: the graceful figure of a bronze mermaid reclining upon a rock in the centre of the pool with a shell in her hand. The crystal-clear water sprang upwards from the shell and descended in rainbow showers. Yes, it must be a mermaid.
“A stone dolphin would look quite nice,” said Mrs. Ayrton, nodding. “I believe I’ve seen one somewhere. Perhaps it was in Princes Street Gardens. We could find out and have a copy made.”
“A copy of a fountain in a public park!” exclaimed Mr. Ayrton in horrified tones. “No, no, Marion, that won’t do at all. That won’t do for Amberwell. We must think of something absolutely original — something really beautiful.”
Mrs. Ayrton made several suggestions but none of them sounded good enough and her husband turned them down.
“We could have a mermaid,” said Mrs. Ayrton at last. “But it would have to be in bronze — that’s the difficulty.”
>
“Difficulty?” asked Mr. Ayrton. “Why should it be difficult?”
“Well, I’ve never seen one —”
“All the better. I said we wanted something absolutely original, didn’t I?”
“Yes, dear, but —”
“There’s no but about it. We’ll have a bronze mermaid — nothing could be better. You might write off to Edinburgh to-night and put it in hand.”
This was even better than Mrs. Ayrton had expected, it was marvellous. The only trouble was she had no idea where to write. A bronze mermaid is not an article one orders every day …
“Write to-night,” repeated Mr. Ayrton. “I suppose you know where to get it.”
“I’ll ask Beatrice,” said Mrs. Ayrton. “I mean we don’t want an ordinary mermaid; we shall want it specially made.”
Beatrice Ayrton was Mr. Ayrton’s sister, she was unmarried and lived in a very comfortable flat in Edinburgh. She was a little trying at times (for she had been born and brought up at Amberwell and was inclined to interfere and to disapprove of any innovations) but Mrs. Ayrton found her useful and bore with her patiently on that account. Beatrice was always willing to undertake any commissions; to match embroidery silks at Jenners, or to choose frocks for the little girls. If Mrs. Ayrton had occasion to visit Edinburgh she could stay with Beatrice for a couple of nights and, even more convenient, Beatrice would shut up her flat and come to Amberwell when her presence was required. It was natural that Mrs. Ayrton should think of her sister-in-law to help solve the problems of the mermaid.
“Yes,” agreed Mr. Ayrton. “Yes, you might ask Beatrice, but make it clear that we want no advice. As I said before Beatrice is too ready to offer advice — she always was. Perhaps the best thing would be for you to make a little sketch and send it to her.”
“A sketch?”
“Just a rough sketch,” said Mr. Ayrton encouragingly. “I’ll help you with it. I know exactly how it should look. A bronze mermaid sitting on a rock in the middle of the pool …”
CHAPTER TWO
At the time when Mr. and Mrs. William Ayrton were discussing the lily-pool the five young Ayrtons still inhabited the nursery flat. Anne, the youngest, was now five years old; Elinor and Constance were six and seven. The two boys, Roger and Thomas, were at a preparatory school near Edinburgh so they were only at Amberwell during the holidays; strictly speaking they were too old for the nursery, but Mrs. Ayrton thought them too young to take their proper places downstairs. As a matter of fact they liked the nursery. Nannie had brought them up from babyhood and was proud of them, for they were fine strong well-grown boys. Roger and Thomas could do what they liked with Nannie, they could twist her round their fingers.
Amberwell (Ayrton Family Book 1) Page 1
