Resolution And Independence

10

Resolution And Independence

    Autumn came, the leaves turned, and the little household at Bluebell Dell prepared, as much as was humanly possible to prepare, to have its world turned upside down. The wedding of Charles Langford and Lettice Burden, née Franklin, was celebrated on a fine, crisp October day. It was not a big affair: the Colonel’s sister, Agatha Crayshaw, with her pleasant husband and a son and daughter-in-law came all the way from Bristol for it, but apart from them and Mr Jonathon Crayshaw, only Lord Sleyven and a Major Churton, an old friend from the Colonel’s regiment who was home on furlough, represented the groom’s side. And on the bride’s there were, besides her little family, Mr and Miss Humphreys, Mrs Cartwright, Mrs Hunter, and her three elderly cousins, Mrs Kinwell, Mr Platt and Miss Platt. It had been quite a hard decision to make, for they had so many kind friends. But on the whole, Lettice had decided that she did not wish to invite any of the persons from the grand houses of the district. She had, however, given in and allowed Miss Somerton, at Miss Polly Burden’s earnest solicitation, to support her daughter as bridesmaid. But no dressing up. Of course both Miss Somerton and Miss Polly had to have new gowns and bonnets for the occasion, but that did not count as dressing up. The posies they carried were rather glorious, not to say slightly incongruous, being composed of blooms from the hothouses at Maunsleigh, but the Colonel had pointed out that they must let Jarvis contribute somethin’ or the fellow would give them some ridiculous and unnecessary wedding gift: a life-size marble lion as a hat stand, or a solid gold horse trough or some such. In the event, a large number of villagers also appeared at Mr Waldgrave’s little church, but everyone was able charitably to overlook that.

    The bride and groom were to have just a week’s honeymoon: by the sea, for although the weather was uncertain, Lettice thought she would like that: she had never seen the sea in her life. It must be admitted that Miss Burden had greeted the news that the Earl of Sleyven owned considerable property on the Kentish coast with an expressionless: “Indeed?”, but her relatives had kindly pretended they had noticed nothing. And Miss Burden had refrained, biting her lip in order to do so, from any remarks in re crumbs from the rich man’s table. Cresswell House was duly opened up and aired, a skeleton staff was sent down by the Earl, and the bridal pair departed in a coach and four, waved off by the entire village.

    Miss Burden spent the week with the boys and Polly at Bluebell Bell: the Colonel had decided that as the boys had missed so much of the term already, another week could not signify; and he wished to take them to Harrow himself, their first time. But after that, if William thought they did not need an elderly step-papa escorting them, of course he would not embarrass them. William had missed the twinkle in the eye, and had thanked him fervently for this mercy.

    “When they get there,” Miss Polly Burden predicted with a little laugh: “they will find that those boys whose papas care enough about them to deliver them and collect them in person, are greatly envied!”

    “Very like,” agreed Miss Burden wanly.

    Polly bit her lip and did not say any more.

    All too soon the honeymooners returned, the boys were packed into the carriage, and Polly was off to Kendlewood Place with Mamma and Cook. Harbottle had decided, blushing fierily, that if it weren’t to disoblige, Mrs Burden, ma’am, she and McVeigh thought they would tie the knot this November rather than starting at the new house. Mrs Burden, smiling very much, had kissed her parlourmaid’s cheek and said kindly that of course they must!

    Miss Polly Burden had predicted gaily that Cook would be serving them up nothing but stuffed larks, plovers’ eggs’ and “gaviar”: she was become so puffed up at her elevation to chef at the Place. To which Miss Burden had replied that, imprimis, it was “caviar,” not “gaviar,” and it was to be hoped Dr Golightly was not aware of how little attention Polly had paid to her books during her incarceration in the schoolroom, and secundus, the principal seat of the Marquis of Rockingham might properly be referred to as “the” Place, but scarcely any lesser house. Forthwith, before her stunned niece could reply, bursting into tears, sobbing out an apology, and rushing from the room.

    On reflection Polly had refrained from reporting this incident to Mrs Burden. For she could not see that it could do any good, and she did not wish to upset dearest Mamma at such a happy time.

    Miss Burden and Harbottle together closed up the house, Harbottle went, by urgent invitation, to the kindly Mrs Fred Watts for the short interval before her wedding, and Midge went to Mrs Cartwright.

    Lettice had of course urged Midge, with tears in her eyes, to remain at Bluebell Dell if she was determined not to accompany them to Kendlewood Place. But Miss Burden, who could see very plainly that Dr Golightly’s quiet but determined courtship of Polly would mean that her niece would have only a short stay under her mamma’s roof before going to a home of her own, had remained adamant on both points. If she joined Letty and the Colonel at Kendlewood Place, it was clear that there would be nothing for her to do, with Polly gone and the boys at school: she would merely be an extra expense to them. She had not put forward this argument, knowing that it would not weigh with either Letty or her kindly fiancé, but she felt it very strongly. And Bluebell Dell was Letty’s: her staying on there must result in her sister-in-law’s being equally out of pocket. Nay, more: if the house were vacated Mrs Burden might get a let for it. Eventually the Colonel had had to say to his distressed fiancée: “My dear, you must let her go. She will be safe and comfortable with Mrs Cartwright; and if being a lady’s companion gives her a feeling that she is become independent and is paying her own way in the world, I think she will be happy.”

    “Not happy,” objected Lettice tearfully.

    The Colonel hesitated. “Happier, then. I am not sure what happened at the damned harvest ball, but I think something must have, though Jarvis claims I know as much as he. But in any case, his ignoring her all night... And then,” he said, biting his lip, “his mind is so firmly made up that she is not the lady for him.”

    Lettice squeezed his hand. “Mm. Very well, my love, if you think it is best, I shall not raise any further objections. In any case,” she added with a sigh, “there is no arguing with Midge.”

   The Colonel did not say that she was as stubborn as Jarvis, then; but he certainly thought it; and knew his fiancée felt that he was thinking it.

    Mrs Cartwright had taken Miss Burden on as companion with the composed remark: “Most certainly the post is still open. I would not have offered, had I not been serious about it.” She had added that Miss Burden would get her keep and a small wage. The horrified Miss Burden had tried to protest that her keep was more than sufficient but Mrs Cartwright had replied majestically, with no evidence of either displeasure or amusement: “It is the usual arrangement. A careful husbandry of your remuneration will enable you to gain a certain measure of independence, should you stay on for any length of time. I do not wish it to be said that I am taking advantage of you. And I trust you do not imagine that the post will be a sinecure?”

    She did not imagine that, no. Though she did not anticipate that the duties would be very onerous. Even though Mrs Cartwright had added fair-mindedly: “But I should warn you your chief duty for the nonce will be keeping an eye on Janey. I shall not blame you if you change your mind.”

    Miss Burden had not changed her mind, even with the added responsibility of the care of that “Trial”, Miss Janey Lattersby. Janey was a charming, bright little creature, and if she was rather too fond of having her own way well, there was nothing very much in that. Midge did not anticipate difficulties.

    And so, indeed, it proved. Miss Janey very speedily recognized in Miss Burden a mind even sharper than her own and ceased trying to play off her tricks with her.

    Winter came: the leaves had all fallen, and the festive season blew in on a gust of ice and sleet with the promise of snow in the air. Those persons who had predicted, on the one hand, that Mrs Cartwright would speedily discover she neither needed Miss Burden nor wanted her in her house, were confounded. Mrs Cartwright had many charitable activities, most especially at this season, with which she was very pleased to have Miss Burden’s assistance; and then, both Janey and Peter Lattersby were still with her, and Miss Burden’s being available to accompany them on shopping expeditions into Nettleford or to little parties and dances for the young people was a great help. Mrs Cartwright, in fact, admitted frankly to Miss Humphreys that Miss Burden’s presence in the house was a blessing.

    Those who had predicted, on the other hand, that Miss Burden would be driven out of the house in a se’en-night by its majestic owner’s entire lack of humour were equally proven wrong: Midge replied to Mr Humphreys’ sympathetic questioning that her employer was fiercely upright and entirely just, the which she did not think could be said of many human beings. And to Mrs Langford, No, she was not bored: she was too busy to be bored. And did Letty know that Mrs Cartwright visited the workhouse every Wednesday without fail? Lettice had not known, but expressed herself very glad to hear it. And did not point out that the workhouse, which served as the joint facility of the parishes of Lower and Upper Nettlefold and was situated on the outskirts of Dinsley Dell, was less than ten minutes’ drive from Mrs Cartwright’s gates. And expressed her fears on the subject of infection therefrom only to her husband.

    As to why Mrs Cartwright’s young guests were hanging on—well, it was now clear to Miss Burden that it was Lady Lattersby’s intention that Mr Peter should become his aunt’s heir. She was not sure whether the amiable Peter knew of this scheme. But then, it would not be unnatural: Mrs Cartwright had no children of her own. And as to Janey: Lady Lattersby had written to say that as she was not entirely well she did not feel herself equal to the strain of chaperoning Janey to parties and would instead spend several months quietly in Bath. Mr Peter had pointed out that, imprimis, his two unmarried sisters not having taken, in London, they was still on Mamma’s hands; secundus, Mamma was hoping to push Lizzie off onto Mr Julius Ward, whose home was, not by coincidence, in Bath; and tertius, if Janey went to Bath it was Lombard Street to a China orange that Lieutenant Romney Hallam would not make an offer for Diane. For when he had visited shortly before they left for Scotland Mamma had claimed that Janey had “distracted” him. Miss Burden had asked in a confused voice why this lieutenant should offer if Janey did not go to Bath, and Mr Peter had replied that his parents lived there. Miss Janey, who had immediately perceived that Miss Burden was pulling her cousin’s leg, had shrieked, and collapsed in giggles. All in all, however, it was conceded that Lady Lattersby’s request that Mrs Cartwright take Janey, or rather, as Mr Peter put it, hang on to Janey, was understandable enough.

    And Major Lattersby wrote a grateful letter of thanks from Brazil, enclosing, Janey did not scruple to explain to Miss Burden, a draft on his London bank. For Papa had quite a lot of money: Janey’s mamma’s father had not been a gentleman but he had been rich: a goldsmith and jeweller. And had left it all between Mamma, Aunt Gianna and Uncle Umberto, and when Aunt Gianna died she had left hers to Janey. Which, Miss Lattersby thought soulfully, must make her quite an eligible partie, did not Miss Burden think? Miss Burden replied repressively that partis were usually of the opposite gender, the which she was sure Miss Janey knew as well as she did, and that if she did not wish for a suggestion that her mouth be washed out with soap she would advise her not to express that thought to her kind hostess. Janey’s reaction to this stern reprimand was to collapse in giggles, hug Miss Burden tightly, and plant a smacking kiss on her cheek, declaring that she loved her.

    Miss Burden smiled a little but returned: “Well, don’t, for I do not deserve it. Love your Aunt Cartwright instead: it is she who is putting a roof over your head and sending you to all these tedi—these little jollities.”

    Promptly Miss Janey collapsed in giggles again.

    Of course Miss Burden did not immediately stop thinking of Lord Sleyven after the ill-fated harvest ball. For one thing, it was hard to stop thinking of a person when one had been thinking of him, admittedly involuntarily, for months on end. And for another thing, although she had mentioned to Mrs Langford that she would prefer to be included only in very small family dinners at Kendlewood Place, she kept running into him there. He was very cool and formal with her. Midge was very cool and formal in return. And did not think above once a day of that time when he had pulled her off the wall, or the other encounter at the strawberry picknick, or of the shocking and shameful thing he had said about her and a man’s bed. Or of has being the father of Mrs Marsh’s younger girl. But at least that was somewhat better than thinking of him every hour. And very probably in time she would forget all that nonsense entirely.

    Mrs Langford at one point had suggested to her new husband that perhaps they should refrain from mentioning his friend in front of Midgey. Just for a while.

    To which Colonel Langford had replied with a dry look: “Why. Lettice?”

    “Well...”

    “Do we want her to forgot all about him?”

    “We do if he has turned against her: yes!” she cried.

    “The silly fellow will not admit to himself that as well as being the woman he wants with every fibre of his being she is exactly what he needs,” said the Colonel, ignoring the fact that his new wife’s cheeks had suddenly turned very pink. “We must give him time. If Midge sees and hears something of him, she will come to know what a good fellow he is. –Though I admit it would help if Mrs M. had never come to the dashed county, yes; don’t say it,” he ended with a sigh.

    “That is not something she could ever forget,” said Lettice in a low voice.

    “No, but in time she may forgive.”

    “In time!” said Lettice on a despairing note. “She is turned thirty!”

    “Yes, but dearest, they really hardly know each other, and it is not a year yet since he came into the district. –As Mrs Waldgrave noted only t’other day,” he added airily.

    Lettice laughed, but also looked indignant.

    “And I have told him,” said the Colonel, even more airily, “that he ain’t gettin’ any younger, neither, and that if he thinks being godfather will be sufficient compensation for not setting up his own nursery, I shan’t ask him to be it!”

    Mrs Langford, now very pink indeed, laughed confusedly, the which appeared so to satisfy her new spouse that the subject of the recalcitrant pair found itself quite abandoned for the time being.

    Christmas came and went, with all its usual jollifications. Fortunately, or so Miss Burden felt, there was quite a large party at Kendlewood Place, with the boys home, Dr Golightly and his brother come to stay, Miss Somerton also come, possibly to spare Simon Golightly the rôle of gooseberry, and Mr and Miss Humphreys, at Mrs Langford’s pressing invitation, settled in to spend a month with them. Colonel Langford’s widower friend, Major Churton, who had decided to sell out, was there also, together with his son, who was a year older than William but appeared content to let himself be bossed unmercifully by Master Burden, and his daughter, a prim little thing who confided to Miss Burden that she wrote poetry, but she feared at was nothing very much. Miss Churton was all of twelve years of age: so Miss Burden kindly did not say that the poetry was doggerel. At least it rhymed. And the spelling was excellent. And it showed a more original turn of mind than a desire to sit in a corner and do embroidery!

    Apparently there were no jollifications this year up at Maunsleigh: Mr Golightly expressed wistfully his thought that they might have had jolly times there as they had done in Grandpapa’s day. To which Miss Burden replied heartlessly that he had the best memory for events which had happened when he was all of three years of age of anybody she had ever met. Mr Golightly cried out indignantly, not perceiving the gleam in her eye, that he had been eight when Grandpapa died and remembered very well! Promptly Miss Burden, Miss Polly and Miss Somerton all collapsed in giggles. Dr Golightly then kindly informed the ladies that it had not been all that jolly: Simon had been too little to have registered the formality and had only noticed the food, the roaring fires, and the waits’ singing. And the food. Miss Somerton again collapsed in helpless giggles, so any hopes that their mothers might have formed about the two were probably doomed to disappointment.

    Miss Burden was urged to stay on for a while at Kendlewood Place, but refused ere the suggestion was scarce past Lettice’s lips: in the first place it was clearly the thin end of the wedge in a campaign to get her to take up residence there, and in the second place Mrs Cartwright, though she would have been included in the invitation, preferred her own bed. They drove over, however, several times, to dinners and other entertainments. The which, as they generally seemed to include Lord Sleyven, was more than enough for Midge. Even though, with that fortunate size of the house party, she did not need either to sit next him at dinner or converse with him. And, in fact, did neither.

    The snowy January devolved into a bleak, dank, horribly bitter February, and the entire district, from Nettleford House to well beyond Turpen’s Way, with the fortunate exception of Mrs Langford, seemed to be down with a heavy cold. Possibly the whole of Maunsleigh was not down with it, but Miss Burden was not interested enough to enquire.

    March roared in like a lion, and Mrs Fred Watts, predicting unseasonably late snow, would have it that it was a soign that all was not well hereabouts. Adding darkly that the Lard was unhappy in ’is self: ar. She was not particularly gratified by the responses she received: these ranged from Powell Humphreys’s arctic: “A fascinating superstition. You see the Earl often, I collect?” through Mr Lumley’s annoyed: “We’ve ’eard enough of them soigns to last us several loifetoimes, this past year, so I’ll thank you to drop it!” to the new Mrs McVeigh’s angry: “Let ’im be un’appy, and I ’ope ’is nose drops orf!”

    The next thing to disturb the district’s tranquillity was the engagement of Miss Polly Burden to Dr Arthur Golightly. This news was received with unalloyed pleasure, except perhaps by Miss Waldgrave and Miss Portia. Miss Waldgrave could not but recognize that it was surprising and, indeed, a little misguided in a serious-minded man like Dr Golightly to have fixed his interest with a flighty girl like Polly Burden. Jealous that she had not caught him herself, her sisters and friends deduced immediately. Miss Portia declared crossly that he was too old and ugly, and Polly Burden would be insufferable now that she was an engaged girl! Jealous that she herself was not in that happy state—yes.

    The generous-hearted Miss Amanda opined, for her part, that it was so romantic, for he was so thrillingly stern-looking and dark: did he not put one in mind of the Corsair? Whilst Polly was so golden fair! Unfortunately this remark was made to Mrs Cartwright and Miss Burden. The former replied smartly that Lord Byron was not a fit writer for an unwed girl to read, and she was surprised that Miss Amanda’s mamma permitted her. And that it was a good match and she trusted Miss Polly was aware of her good fortune. Poor Amanda was so crushed that she did not even dare to opine that Polly must be.

    The wedding date was set for June: it would not, to the tremendous disappointment of Amanda Waldgrave and Lacey Somerton, be in the cathedral at Nettleford, but in their own little church at Lower Nettlefold. Not even with the Dean assisting! Which he might well have done, for the groom’s father had no rôle in the ceremony. Even the fact that they would both be bridesmaids was not complete consolation. Nor yet the fact that Miss Waldgrave and Miss Portia would not be. Mrs Somerton immediately decided on apricot silk: it was Lacey’s colour. Mrs Waldgrave as immediately deciding on blue silk (Amanda wore blue so well), battle was completely joined.

    “One is tempted to say, Let ’em wear stripes,” summed up Miss Burden grimly.

    Miss Janey giggled and nodded, but Mrs Cartwright, far from uttering a dignified reproof, merely shivered and clutched her shawl more tightly round her.

    “Dear ma’am, are you unwell?” asked Midge anxiously.

    “It is nothing. A slight cold.”

    Miss Burden rose and quietly felt her pulse. “It is probably just a cold coming on, yes, but the pulse is very tumultuous: I think you had better go to bed.’

    Mrs Cartwright grumbled but allowed herself to be put to bed with a soothing draught.

    “I don’t like the look of her,” said Miss Burden grimly to the young people.

    Janey looked at her fearfully. “No, indeed: it is so unlike Aunt Cartwright to give in to illness!”

    “Yes.” Midge rang the bell for Hawkins. “I shall send for Dr Jarman.”

    Dr Jarman came, and looked grave.

    “What is it?” asked Miss Burden tightly.

    The doctor hesitated. “Has Mrs Cartwright been near the workhouse?”

    “Why, yes: we visit every Wednesday: it is her habit to do so.”

    “I have three patients there with scarlet fever. If you usually go with her, I had best check you over, Miss Burden. What about the little girl and the lad?”

    “Well, for the last two Wednesdays Janey has gone over to Kendlewood Place to visit with my niece. Mr Lattersby sometimes comes, but he stays in the carriage.”

    “I’ll look at him, too,” he said grimly.

    Miss Burden, Mr Peter and Miss Janey were pronounced free of symptoms, as were all the servants, but Dr Jarman was to be called immediately should anyone develop a sore throat. It was a pity that Miss Janey had been visiting at Kendlewood Place, given Mrs Langford’s condition: but if she herself were free of the infection, there was nothing to worry about. Dinsley Airs, he was afraid, would have to be quarantined.

    He then took Miss Burden aside. “I collect Mrs Cartwright has not mentioned it to you, but she has had problems with her heart these past ten years. Two severe attacks, to my knowledge. I have warned her not to do too much, but she is not the sort of woman to heed a warning. I think you should be aware, Miss Burden, that scarlet fever is known to weaken the heart, especially in older persons."

    Miss Burden went very pale but said steadily: “I see. I shall notify her sister, in that case.”

    “I think that it would be wise, aye.”

    “Do not look like that, Janey, we must do our best, and hope. Many people recover from scarlatina,” said Miss Burden firmly as, the doctor having given her and Hawkins a string of instructions, he took his leave.

    “Buh-but if I have carried it over to Kendlewood Place—” she faltered.

    “These things happen: they are nothing one can foretell. But there is no sense in anticipating trouble.”

    Janey bit her lip. “There was an epidemic when Papa and I were in Rome. Our neighbours’ little girl died.”

    Miss Burden replied briskly: “That is very sad, but you must not brood. Why not go out to the kitchen and learn how to make a soothing jelly?”

    “I already know: Aunt Gianna taught me,” said Janey, brightening. “I wonder if Cook can make a lemon jelly? For that is the most soothing of all. Shall I ask her?”

    Miss Burden nodded, and Janey hastened out.

    Peter had been standing by mumchance, tugging at his neckcloth, during this conversation. Now he said abruptly: “Should I write Mamma?”

    “Yes,” said Miss Burden tightly.

    He turned very white, but nodded.

    “You had best know that scarlatina can be very serious in older persons. Mrs Cartwright’s heart is not strong. And she is the oldest of your mamma’s family, I think?”

    He nodded again.

    “Write to them all, Peter,” said Miss Burden, as gently as she could. “Try not to alarm them unduly, but they have a right to know.'

    “Yes. I’ll start now.”

    Nodding, Miss Burden hurried upstairs and left him to it.

    No-one else at Dinsley Airs contracted the disease, and Mrs Cartwright did not have a very severe case. At first Dr Jarman held out much hope. But then, though the horrid flush had gone and there was very little peeling, he shook his head slowly.

    “I think the heart is very much weakened, Miss Burden.”

    “I see. I shall have Peter send for his mamma immediately, then.”

    Dr Jarman swallowed a sigh. “Aye, I think you had best do so. We must be thankful that it has been successfully confined to the workhouse, apart from this one case. –That Hutton fellow from Maunsleigh has been a tower of strength with the old fellows at the workhouse, you know.”

    “Really?”

    “Aye. Tells me he is used to practical nursing from his India days. In fact, to hear him tell it, he once nursed a regiment through a cholera epidemic,” he said with a little smile.

    Miss Burden also smiled a little, but said: “I can see him doing it.”

    “Aye. An excellent fellow.” He hesitated. “I said I would mention to you, Miss Burden, that if you need him he is at your disposal.”

    Midge went very pink. “That is very kind of him. I shall send him a message.”

    She saw the doctor out and hurried off to tell Peter to write to his mother and uncles immediately. And she would see if Mr Hutton could take the letter to his mother. Mr Peter nodded gratefully.

    “That,” said Miss Burden thankfully as there was a knock at the front door about an hour later, “must be Mr Hutton. Send him straight in, please, Hawkins. And then you must get off to your bed: Miss Janey will sit with Mrs Cartwright for a little.”

    “Miss Burden, I don’t loike to leave her,” she quavered.

    “Your falling ill too will not help her. It is Miss Janey’s turn: when you have let Mr Hutton in you must go up to your room directly.”

    “Yes, Miss.” Hawkins went over to the door but paused and said: “What was it you rung for, Miss?”

    “Precisely to order you to your bed,” said Midge, smiling.

    “Oh. Yes, Miss.” Hawkins smiled weakly, bobbed, and exited.

    Miss Burden wandered over to the fireplace, chewing on her lip. Hawkins was not young: would Mr Peter, supposing that he inherited the house in the event of his aunt’s death, wish to keep her on? Oh, dear. But perhaps Mrs Cartwright had provided—

    “Miss Burden, ma’am—”

    “Hawkins,” said Midge heavily: “go to bed. Mr Hutton does not need to be shown in.”

    “But it ain’t ’im, Miss!” she gasped. “He couldn’t come, so ’e sent— No, I mean—”

    “Bed,” said Miss Burden firmly. “Come in, Tonkins!”

    Hawkins disappeared with a flurried gasp; there was a moment’s silence, and then the door opened wide.

    “He sent me,” said a meek voice.

    Miss Burden turned a fiery red and was incapable of speech.

    The Earl came in, closing the door after him. “How is she?”

     “Vuh-very weak,” faltered Miss Burden.

    “Mm. The heart, is it?”

    She sank down onto a sofa, nodding.

    “I thought it must be, from your note to Hutton. Give me the letter for her sister. I’ll see it’s delivered.”

    Midge hesitated.

    “Tonkins will take it. He won’t get lost, I assure you.”

    “Lady Lattersby lives at Marlow: he has only to take the London road—”

    “Yes. Good.” He looked at her narrowly. “How are you?”

    “I’m all right,” said Midge faintly. “And Janey and Peter have not contracted it, thank God.”

    “Er—oh, yes: the two young people who were with her at the damned harvest hop?”

    “Yes. I think you have seen them with her since then.”

    He took a deep breath. “It has all been rather blurred since then, Miss Burden.”

    Midge nodded speechlessly.

    “Where is the letter?”

    “What? Oh. I’ll see if Peter has finished it.” She hurried out.

    The Earl strolled over to the hideous green marble mantelpiece and leaned his elbow upon it. Miss Burden today was in a brown stuff gown that looked as if it had seen better days. Unfortunately there was a corset under it. But she was as desirable as ever, with her cheeks flushed and her glorious hair, in the usual big braided coronet, very wispy about her neck and ears. His hand clenched tightly. He should not have come, but he had been unable to resist the impulse to do so. Those occasional glimpses of her at Kendlewood Place had been, frankly, unadulterated torture.

    She was back in a few moments with a handful of letters. “This is the one for Lady Lattersby—Mrs Cartwright's sister.”

    “Give them all to me: I’ll see them safely delivered.”

    “Thank you,” said Miss Burden simply. “I was wondering how on earth to manage it, for we have only an elderly coachman and the groom.”

    “I am glad to be of service. Tonkins is waiting outside: he will head straight for Marlow.”

    She nodded inarticulately.

    “Good-bye.”

    “Good-bye,” said Miss Burden faintly as the door closed after him.

    Mrs Cartwright died quietly in her sleep the next night, before her sister could reach her. She had been wakeful earlier, and had seemed worried about something, feebly motioning Midge closer.

    “What is it, dear ma’am?’

    “Look after that chit,” she said faintly. “The father is...”

    “Yes?” said Midge gently.

    “Flighty.” There was a pause. “Very like... her.”

    “I will look after Janey.”

    Mrs Cartwright’s eyes closed but there was a frown on her brow, and her fingers moved feebly on the sheet.

    “Miss Burden, there’s something else on ’er moind!” hissed Hawkins.

    Midge nodded silently.

    Mrs Cartwright said faintly, her eyes still closed: “Peter... weak.”

    Miss Burden bit her lip a little. She thought so, too. “He is but a boy, as yet,” she murmured.

    “Don’t...” Her voice faded: Midge and Hawkins thought she was asleep, but she opened her eyes and said: “Don't take Butterworth: I was wrong.”

    “No, I shall not take him,” said Midge steadily.

    “Nor that Pryce-Cavell boy,” she said, frowning.

    “I shall not take him, either.”

    The old lady's hand moved agitatedly on the sheet: Midge covered it with her little warm one and said softly: “Is there something else, dear ma’am?”

    “Titles don’t count,” she said harshly, opening her eyes and looking straight into Midge’s.

    “I know that,” she replied gamely.

    “If you want him, take him. Any man... may be led... astray. Don’t... condemn him,” she whispered, very faint.

    “Lard, she means ’is Lardship, Miss Burden!” hissed Hawkins, as Mrs Cartwright’s eyes closed, her breathing changed, and she was evidently asleep.

    “Mm.”

    “To ’ear the mistress come roight out and say something loike that... Miss Burden, she must be a-goin'!” stuttered the faithful maid, with tears in her eyes.

    Midge was herself blinking back tears. “Mm.”

    Hawkins got up, sniffing. “I think I better fetch Mr Peter.”

    “Very well, Hawkins: thank you.”

    Hawkins crept out, wiping her eyes with her apron.

    Midge continued to sit quietly, holding the old lady’s hand, until she died, about two hours later.

    In the opinion of Miss Lacey Somerton it would have been so much more Romantick if Mrs Cartwright had left Dinsley Airs to dear Miss Burden! But of course she had not: and it was as well for herself that Miss Somerton did not express this view to her mamma. Mr Peter Lattersby was Mrs Cartwright s chief heir, and Dinsley Airs with most of its contents and its grounds came to him. It must be admitted that there was an expression of huge relief on Lady Lattersby’s face as the will was read, so perhaps it had not been an absolutely understood thing in the family. Lady Lattersby’s daughters were not mentioned, but Miss Janey Lattersby got a delicate little escritoire which had belonged to Mrs Cartwright as a girl, plus a miniature, not of Mrs Cartwright herself, but of the cat she had had in her youth. Lady Lattersby looked somewhat annoyed at this last but noted: “Papa always did spoil her horridly, and she would have it the creature’s portrait was all she wanted for her birthday that year, so he let her have her way: but it has always seemed cross-eyed, to me.” Mr Peter noted that in his opinion it should rather have been left to Miss Burden, for at least she liked cats.

   Miss Burden, however, had not been left a miniature: Miss Burden, to her own confusion, had been left an annuity of fifty pounds a year, with the hope that it would give her her independence, should that be what she truly wished for. Mr Peter looked puzzled, and opined that it was a funny thing to have said, but then, he supposed that wills did put things oddly.

    After the will was read Lady Lattersby got the lawyer aside and asked if that clause might be broken: Mr Grogan, however, eyed her Ladyship drily and said that if one clause were to be invalidated, the whole will would be, and in that case the law of intestacy would mean that— Lady Lattersby did not desire the estate to be divided up amongst her six brothers and herself, for what good would one seventh of Dinsley Airs be to Peter? So she desisted.

    “Dear Miss Burden: what will you do with it?” asked Janey eagerly, as soon as the two were alone.

    Miss Burden was still feeling very stunned at Mrs Cartwright s generosity: after all, she had been with her with her barely six months at her death, and had certainly expected nothing. “I am not sure. I—I should like to take a little cottage somewhere.”

    “Oh, yes! And I could come and live with you until Papa gets back!” she cried.

    “Janey, much as I should love to have you, your Aunt Phoebe may have something to say to that.”

   “Pooh! She is not my aunt, and if you think hers will be the deciding voice, you are wrong!” said Janey with a naughty giggle.

    Miss Burden had already realised that, though Sir Neville Lattersby was pretty much under the thumb of his domineering wife in general, in this particular instance he had fallen prey to Miss Janey’s charm. Indeed, she had a strong suspicion that had Janey truly wished to accompany her aunt and cousins to Scotland last year, she would have gone.

    “Added to which, she doesn’t want me, for she is afraid that I will ‘distract’ Lieutenant Hallam from Diane!”

    “Which of course you would not,” noted Miss Burden drily. “Well, we shall see. I doubt that Sir Neville will consider a little cottage suitable for his niece, so do not build your hopes up.”

    Miss Janey merely smiled.

    Miss Burden, who had rather a lot on her plate just at present. was so foolish as to overlook this smile.

    “Take Bluebell Dell?” she echoed numbly.

    “Why not? It was Janey’s idea,” said Mrs Langford, smiling. “For now that you have the wherewithal to pay the rent, there is nothing to stop you.”

    “Do you not see?' It will be perfect!” cried Polly.

    “Yes!” agreed Janey. “And Hawkins may come to us!”

    “Hawkins has her annuity, Janey: what makes you think she wishes to go on working?” Miss Burden objected.

    “She told me herself.”

    “You must speak to her, of course, Midgey. But what do you think?” smiled Mrs Langford.

    “Not that Mamma wishes to wring the rent out of you, Aunty Midge!” said Polly with a gurgle.

    “No: if only you would consent—” began Mrs Langford.

    “No,” said Midge firmly. “Um—well, I had not thought of Bluebell Dell... I am very tempted. But it is rather large, just for me.'

    “Uncle Neville said to tell you that of course there will be my keep,” urged Janey.

    “And you may go on with the Italian and French lessons, and Mr Bottomley-Pugh will of course send the bluestocking hens back!” beamed Polly.

    “I... What does Colonel Langford think?” said Midge limply.

    “He thinks you should call him Charles!” replied Mrs Langford, laughing. “No, well, actually he told us we were not to force you into it,” she admitted.

    “And Mr Lumley has promised you a pig!” beamed Polly, ignoring this.

    “I see. The whole neighbourhood has decided that I must move back to Bluebell Dell,” said Midge limply.

    Mrs Langford had a strong feeling that the whole neighbourhood had, rather, decided that Miss Burden should first move back into Bluebell Dell and then marry the Earl of Sleyven. She merely said, however: “Well, yes! But only if you should really like it, Midgey, dear.”

    “I must think it over,” said Midge firmly. “No: don’t attempt to persuade me any more, Janey,” she said, as Janey opened her mouth eagerly. “I must weigh the pros and cons of it.”

    Mrs Langford was pretty well sure the day was won, and managed to catch Janey’s eye and nod reassuringly.

    And so, indeed, it proved. Lady Lattersby and both of Peter’s unmarried sisters, with one of his married ones as well, descended in force on Dinsley Airs, and Miss Burden and Janey moved thankfully out of it and into Bluebell Dell. Taking with them not only Hawkins, but also Mr Mischief, who had moved placidly into Dinsley Airs along with Miss Burden and there proceeded to rule the roost, utterly cowing Mrs Cartwright’s Ferdinand, his great-great (by Hawkins’s reckoning) nephew. And who now returned equally placidly to Bluebell Dell. Routing a scrawny stray who had taken up residence there in the family’s absence approximately an hour after moving in. Ferdinand came, too, but it had to be admitted he was not much use. In fact, while the routing was going on he was in his usual position, to wit, curled up by the kitchen stove. The “bluestocking” French hens were already in residence: Mr Bottomley-Pugh had escorted them over himself. And so was the pig from Mr Lumley.

    And thus—Miss Polly Burden having been restrained forcibly by her mamma and step-papa from running over for a few days—Miss Burden settled in resolutely to the new routine of an independent life.

Next chapter:

https://thepatchworkparasol.blogspot.com/2022/12/the-consolidation-of-position.html