by Georgia Hill
Richard, I ignore as best I can.
To prevent myself from dwelling, I have become extremely busy and helpful. It has not quite gone to plan.
Today, Dorcas complained I was getting under her feet. I scandalised Cook by offering to help and she shooed me out of the kitchen and even Leonora became irritated with my attempts to read out the newspaper to her.
‘Child, if you really want something to do,’ she hissed, ‘go and decorate the tree. Sam has brought it in now. Go. The devil makes work for idle hands. No! Walk, Henrietta. WALK!’
A Christmas tree. I love Christmas trees! I shot out of the drawing room and slid on the polished hall floor. As I turned the corner, I saw an enormous tree being put in its place by Sam from the stables. In all my time at Delamere, Christmas has never warranted such magnificence. I could only presume it was in honour of my father.
‘Oh, it’s so, so lovely.’ I clasped my hands together in, for me, an unusually demure fashion. Then I spoiled everything by hopping excitedly from foot to foot.
Sam blushed. ‘Thank you, Miss Henrietta. Got it up by Stoke Bliss woods, miss. It’s a fine looking one an’ all.’
‘It’s perfect, Sam. It’s the best tree we’ve ever had in the house.’ So wrapped up by its splendour and by my unusually emotional response (I had been veering wildly between emotions all winter and had given up trying to understand myself) I missed Richard creeping up behind me.
‘Now, that can’t be Hetty going all gooey over a Christmas tree. I say, old girl, would you like to borrow my handkerchief to mop up your soppy tears?’ He reached from behind me and put his arms tight around my waist. He lifted me up and twirled me around. He was astonishingly strong.
As Richard held me in his vice-like grip, I cursed him. I have learned a deal of school language from him this vac! I certainly wasn’t going to let him get the better of me. I still had not forgiven the trick he’d played on me in the library. Or what he had said at the Parkers’ tea party. It had been so nice until he had spoiled things.
‘You perfect beast.’ My voice became shrill and distinctly unladylike as I tried to struggle free. If I had a girlfriend like the ones in my favourite stories, then she would surely have come to my rescue. ‘Put me down at once. Put me down!’
As this had no effect, I screamed and kicked his shins. Hard.
‘Ow! You little –’
‘Stop it at once, Richard. Let her go, for goodness sake.’ Edward’s calm and authoritative voice was welcome. ‘Put her down!’
He strode into the hall like an avenging angel and took hold of Richard’s collar. Richard became all at once still and subdued. Whatever punishment Edward had meted out in lieu of the ‘book incident’ had worked.
‘Now, little brother, as penance I suggest you help Cousin Hetty make some new decorations for the tree. Some of last year’s are a bit beyond the pale.’ At Richard’s protest he added: ‘Yes, I insist. Flora is visiting later and she can help too. You’d best use the school room. It will contain some of the mess. And it will be a pleasure, Richard, do you understand? A pleasure!’
And it was. For a while.
Despite the cold in the school room, we were soon engrossed in making all kinds of decorations. We sat, side by side, at the old scrubbed pine table, breathing out misty clouds of air as we worked.
Of course, Richard muttered oaths and profanities under his breath for the first five minutes – truly shocking – and fascinating. Listening avidly, I stored some of the worst ones away for future reference. But he soon got busy. I was halfway through crayoning the paper boxes in which to put the toffees Cook always made, when he spoke to me.
‘I say, Hetty old girl. I’m awfully sorry about the book, you know.’ His voice was squeaky and embarrassed, but I could tell he was sincere.
I sighed, knowing I was about to capitulate. I always found it hard to hold a grudge against Richard. Somehow, he charmed his way out of all mischief he created. Besides, after my startling talk with Edward, I was feeling rather superior.
‘It doesn’t matter a bit,’ I interrupted him. ‘Edward has told me all I need to know,’ I added, airily. ‘So you can never play that trick on me again.’
He stared at me wide-eyed.
‘In fact, I think I may now know more than even you, Richard!’
His eyes widened even further.
‘And, if I am to marry Edward, perhaps it is just as well I do know these things, for I am a woman now.’
Clearly, he had no idea to what I was referring, for he remained silent and flushed and returned to the task in hand, which was repairing the angel.
I looked at the angel with fondness; it had graced every tree at Christmas since I had come to the house. She was looking distinctly worn around the edges now, but Richard was tidying her up beautifully.
‘She will look lovely, Richard.’ I put my hand out to his in an impulsive gesture. ‘Don’t let us quarrel when we have been such friends. Let us make up.’
He looked up at that, with an angry flush still staining his face. He looked all at once older, almost more of a man. ‘What is the point of us being friends when you are to marry Edward?’
I did not reply to this comment, which I thought remarkably silly. Instead, I pulled my sleeves further over my hands, which were, by now, freezing, and reapplied myself to my own undertaking.
The frigid silence was only interrupted by Flora Parker coming into the school room.
From the moment she sat down, Richard focused all his attention on her. His comment that he intended to make her his sweetheart came back to me.
I knew what he was about. Despite being banned, he was trying to bag a ride on one of the Parkers’ hunters over the Christmas holidays. He had developed an unhealthy passion for the creatures.
Needless to say, the Trenchard-Lewis household could only afford an old nag to pull the little dog cart that was Sam’s responsibility. Snowy was so aged that no one could ride her and certainly not Richard; he already had a reputation for riding his mounts hard.
I gazed surreptitiously at Flora Parker, safe in the knowledge that she was so enraptured by Richard to not notice my rude staring.
She was slightly older than I, perhaps by two years or so, and had blonde curls and a round face, which was always a delicate shade of rose-pink. I still suffered from freckles on account of my always forgetting to wear my hat, and the snub nose remained defiantly turned up.
But, dear Diary, it is more than Flora’s wealth and good looks that irritate me, although that is enough surely? It is her perfect social composure. I have never seen her drop crumbs on the rug, she never has ink-stained fingers after having to write the lines: “I will not be cheeky to Dorcas,” a hundred times. She never becomes hot and sweaty as I do after playing French cricket. And she has a strange way of twisting everyone around her dainty little finger. She and Richard sweethearts? Actually, they make the perfect pairing!
But back to the school room of earlier today. I was pouting and gilding walnuts and ruminating on how life was simply not fair.
Flora was now talking to Richard and captivating him in a way I rarely did. Even her voice was pretty: soft, with a tinkling little laugh. It was very unlike my raucous bellow or endless giggles.
I wondered why she came to Delamere. She took every opportunity. I could not see why she found a crumbling, half-closed-up house with no land so fascinating. It certainly did not compare to Breckington.
Leonora had once intimated that Flora’s father was in trade; she’d said the words in scandalised tones, which had made Richard and I giggle, Mr Parker’s business being something to do with cloth. They were very up to the minute, going so far as installing electrical light downstairs, with a generator to provide the power! Now, this was something I found very exciting. At Delamere, we were still managing with the old oil lamps and candles for upstairs.
Richard and Flora were having an animated and whispered conversation and I thought it rather a poor show. Richard was l
apping up the attention, however.
I scowled to myself and added the last nut to the others, laying them in a neat row to dry. Then I slipped out and went to the library to speak to Papa. I was cross and scratchy and seeing Flora and Richard flirt made me worse. Was it possible I had become violently in love with Richard?
As I entered the room, the smell of lavender and beeswax assailed my nostrils again and I was transported back to when Richard had brought me in here. Something had changed since that day and I could not analyse quite what. Richard was playing games with me. Jealous that I may marry Edward, but taunting me with Flora.
Diary, I have to marry someone. There is no other path for me. The aunts are unable to launch me into Society, so it is unlikely I will meet someone other than Edward and Richard. I fear Mrs Parker would not deem me suitable for her sons. The alternative is to stay at Delamere and grow older and more decrepit with the house. I wish it could go back to when we were all younger, when Richard and I shared the nursery and ran wild in the gardens. It all seems far too complicated now.
However Diary, I digress. Back to the library.
The men did not see me as I approached. They had their backs to me and were bending over a case of specimens. I heard my father say: ‘So, Edward, old chap, do you understand how the hissing cockroach makes its sound? It is the air being forced through its respiratory openings, here on its abdomen, d’you see? Quite remarkable, quite remarkable. They are quite splendid to hear but are fearsome beasts to behold, truly fearsome.’
‘And you say you collected these in Madagascar? One day, sir, I hope to make the same journey as you have done.’
‘I think, perhaps, you should go further.’ My father sighed with longing. ‘There is so much of this world to see. So many of its wonders to experience.’
‘I should dearly like to visit the great pyramids.’ Edward was being polite. I knew nothing of this longing to visit Egypt. I, however, yearn to see them.
‘The world has much to offer, dear boy. And I have no doubt you will see some of it, at least!’
I coughed and both men turned. Father looked thoroughly disgruntled at being disturbed.
‘Henrietta, so there you are,’ said my father, as if he had been looking for me. I knew nothing was further from his thoughts. I had never really existed for him as a child, or indeed now, when I was on the brink of adulthood. Not for the first time did I thank the heavens for Aunt Hester and Nanny. They were more family to me than this bearded stranger peering myopically at me now.
‘Yes, Father, here I am. I wish to speak to you.’
With an embarrassed glance at my father, Edward slipped past, murmuring something about seeing how the decorations were coming along. Jealously, I wondered if what he really wanted to do was see Flora.
I shut the door behind him and went to sit at the table containing the specimen case and averted my eyes. I did not want to look at giant hissing cockroaches.
‘Father, a long time ago you told me if I needed to know an answer, then I should ask the question.’
Father sat down opposite me, took off his spectacles and polished them in nervous fashion. ‘Indeed. And what do you have to ask, little one?’
I took a deep breath. ‘I have two questions,’ I began. ‘Firstly, am I rich and where does my money come from? And two, am I really to marry Edward?’
Father replaced his spectacles and stared at me owlishly. He looked relieved and I wondered what he thought I wanted to ask. He smiled. ‘Dear child, who has been filling your head with such tittle tattle? The servants no doubt!’
I shook my head. ‘It matters not where I heard it. What I want to know is, is it true?’
Father smiled. ‘Well, if I must answer you, yes, you have a little money, not a great deal, but some. It comes from your mother’s side of the family. As you know, I have none to speak of. You will inherit it when you come of age. It is not for me to touch. That, I promised your dear Mama.’
I was excited and dismayed, all at once. ‘Not until I am twenty-one?’ It seemed a lifetime away.
‘Indeed.’
‘And am I to marry Edward?’
Father gave a little cough. ‘Well, Henrietta, I cannot answer that question.’ He shook his head, amused. ‘It is surely for you and Edward to discuss and I’m not at all sure he thinks of you in quite that, erm, way. If he does, then he must come to me, of course.’ Father sat back and beamed, indulging me. ‘But you are very young to be thinking of a husband. Surely there will be all the time in the world to decide on that when you’re older. You’re just a child!’
‘I am nearly fifteen, Father,’ I said, somewhat tartly.
‘Good Heavens, are you really? How the time does fly. Fifteen. Nearly grown up, then.’ He smiled again. ‘My little girl, almost fifteen, how extraordinary!’ He shook his head in amazement, then glanced, longingly, at his specimen cases.
I thought then, if I were a peculiar-looking bug with a pin stuck through it and presented on silk, that I would hold more fascination for my father. It was at that moment I realised he had neatly deposited me, at an age where I was to prove most expensive, with nannies and governesses and so on, in my distant relatives’ home, therein causing the rumour and speculation, which had no doubt fuelled Richard’s wild imaginings.
Diary, rarely have I been so enraged!
The gong sounded for tea and I had an excuse to rise. Father had already turned his concentration back to his horrid creatures, so I slipped away. Furious and again on the verge of tears, this time angry ones, I had the misfortune to bump into Richard coming in the opposite direction.
‘Hetty? I say, what’s the matter, Hetty?’
He came to me and held my shoulders. Gone was the annoying schoolboy. There was genuine concern in his eyes. ‘Hetty, I hate to see you upset.’
He folded me in his arms and I took comfort from his strong embrace. He could be irritating and wild sometimes, but the bond between us was unbreakable. We had sealed it in blood, after all. If only he could be like this all the time, then I would certainly marry him. Flora or no!
But there was Edward. I did not know his expectations. I broke away from Richard’s embrace.
His face clouded. In an instant his mood changed. ‘Do you need my handkerchief again? Are those yet more soppy girl tears?’
I stamped my foot. ‘You always make things worse, Richard. You are impossible.’ With that remarkably silly speech, I ran off.
Rachel put the diary down and rubbed at her eyes. Poor Hetty! She was so confused.
‘Who did you end up marrying, Hetty? I hope it was someone who was kind and who loved you for who you were.’
A ripple of amusement ran around the little sitting room. ‘Wait and see,’ it seemed to suggest. ‘Wait and see!’
Rachel picked up the dairy again, although she knew she ought to be getting on with some work. A thought occurred to her. She and Hetty were similar in many ways. Rachel’s parents made no secret of their disappointment with their daughter and Hetty was hardly a daughter at all to her Papa. But Hetty got angry and stamped her foot, whereas she just became more and more subdued, living life timidly, terrified of opening up to anyone or anything.
‘Hetty, sweetie, you’re a bit before his time, but you’d’ve loved what Philip Larkin had to say.’
Again, there was approval and amusement rolling round the room. ‘Learn from me,’ it said this time. ‘Learn from my experiences.’
Rachel read on.
January 1908, Delamere House
I have been in no mood for more teasing from Richard. I am in no mood fit for any company! I skulk and scowl and am very cross indeed. And so confused. This morning simply made things worse.
Despite his ban, Richard went riding with the Parkers. He even inveigled an invitation to join them for, of all things, his very first hunt.
The northeast Herefordshire meets, as tradition has always dictated, on the front drive of Delamere, every New Year’s Day morning. It is one time
when I think the old house echoes with hints of its glorious past.
There was a hard frost this morning and I hopped from one foot to the other, toes cold in my boots. I shoved my hands in my armpits in an attempt to keep them warm and stared at Richard and Edward, mounted and ready. The air was full of the stench of horses and the sound of their snorting breath against the cold.
Edward, I could tell, did not have his heart in it. He was going at Flora’s special request and had been loaned Major, a solid chestnut hunter, who was beginning to slow with old age. Richard, however, was mounted on one of the Parkers’ new geldings. It was an enormous black beast with flaring nostrils and I disliked it on the spot. It rejoiced in the name of Lucifer.
As Richard fought to control the straining horse, its hooves made a skittering sound as it slipped on the ice. In contrast, Flora, David and Lawrie, dressed in all their finery, sat unmoving on far more patient mounts.
The Parkers put Richard’s shabby riding clothes to shame, but he did not seem to notice. He looked the far better rider, controlling the wild horse as he was, with aplomb. He drew the horse, even now frothing up with excitement, alongside the main group, where he chatted animatedly to Flora. She, in her black riding coat, top hat and veil, looked ravishing. For the first time, I felt a pang of longing to ride.
‘Such a splendid sight,’ Aunt Hester said. She stood at my side and pulled a shawl more closely round her, against the chill. The aunts, as predicted, had relented when Flora pleaded Richard’s case.
‘He won’t have another chance to do any riding this holiday and you know how he loves it. It will be his very first hunt,’ she had wheedled. ‘And besides, he’s the only person who can master Lucifer. Please let Richard ride, otherwise the horse won’t get a chance to take part and Father says it so needs the experience.’
The aunts had crumpled in the face of such persuasion. Flora was the only person to whom Leonora ever gave way. It infuriated me.
