Chapter Two
‘Little barrels, roped and tarred,
all full of brandywine’
The journey had been relatively uneventful, and the countryside was lovely in all its spring lushness with the apple blossom in full bloom and lambs frisky in the meadows beside their mothers. Despite showers earlier in the day, the late afternoon sun softened any harshness on the skyline, and it was near dusk when the hired chaise finally rolled down the last hill and into the village of Winchelsea.
Earlier that day, there had been tearful farewells at the Queen’s House, and Julia was grateful that Philip Stratton had had the sensitivity not to appear. The kind and practical Princess Augusta had assured her that if she was unhappy in her new position, a place would be found for her back at Court. She had only to let them know, and so with that comfort at least, she had started off. From the moment they left Windsor, Smithers, Julia’s maid, had started to weep and by the time they reached Sevenoaks, Julia’s patience was at an end.
‘Please stop snivelling, Smithers, and try to control yourself.’
The maid caught her breath on a sob.
‘But oh, Miss Julia, what am I to do buried in the country? No Court, no town. There’ll be nothing!’
Julia smiled. ‘You still have me, Smithers, and that’s the choice you made. Now let’s have no more of this nonsense. You are becoming tiresome.’
The maid cast Julia a resentful stare from behind her handkerchief and sank back into her seat.
‘Look at the view of the countryside we are passing. It is all new to us both,’ Julia added more kindly.
Smithers sniffed even more loudly as if to show her contempt for rural views. For the maid, it was a dreadful journey into the unknown. Having been with Julia since her appointment to Court, and a Londoner by birth, country life was totally abhorrent to her. As Julia’s personal maid at Court, she had standing and position but that was now gone. Although Julia offered to release her from her situation, Smithers had nowhere else to go; thus, although reluctant, she had agreed to stay and support Julia to her destination.
At the thriving market town of Tonbridge, all was hectic bustle. Julia was surprised at how busy the coachyard was when they arrived at the Rose and Crown for lunch. A mail coach was about to leave, loaded with passengers. Another coach, only recently arrived, its team of horses tired from drawing the coach, was being led away to be fed and rested up in readiness for their next stage. Ostlers, meanwhile, were preparing to get fresh horses poled up to take the coach on the remaining leg of its journey.
Passengers milled around talking and calling for assistance from the guard as corded trunks were loaded on top, and bandboxes, valises and smaller packages were packed into the boot. A terrier added to the general confusion by scampering around, barking at the steaming horses of Julia’s chaise. Everyone ignored the stableboy who was trying in vain to catch the dog. They were too busy going to luncheon or going about their own business to be bothered with them.
Assisted by an eager waiter, Julia and Smithers alighted stiffly from the chaise and entered the Inn.
‘This way, your ladyship,’ cried a welcoming maidservant, who led them past the noisy taproom which was doing good business for the middle of the day, and past the coffee room which was filled with a quieter clientele, to the dining room.
Pausing at the doorway, Julia could see the dining room, too, was doing a steady trade, and noticed a burly red-faced parson seated at a table. He was brandishing his fork in an excited manner, deeply engrossed in conversation with a thin foreign-looking gentleman in the dress of a Lutheran Pastor which she recognised from her time at Court.
‘A private dining room, if you please,’ said Julia firmly.
She was quite unused to this sort of establishment and was somewhat bewildered, but was no less interested in the proceedings than was Smithers who was studying everything with frank curiosity.
‘The best parlour will be suitable for you, I am sure, your ladyship,’ bobbed the maid, and led them on to a comfortable and clean private room, reserved for travellers of quality.
‘If we could attend to our toilette first,’ Julia inquired, as she put down her reticule and untied the ribbons of her hat.
The maid nodded understandingly and Julia relaxed accordingly.
Both Julia and Smithers were grateful for the excellent hot meal in the private parlour of the Rose and Crown Inn, which fortified them for the rest of the day’s journey in the jolting coach.
Now at journey’s end, Julia gazed out of the window of the chaise at what was to be her new home. It was a large two-storey house of no discernible period, set back from the road in a neglected garden. As the carriage made its way up the drive towards the covered portico over the front door, Julia felt her heart beat quicken. Smithers sniffed beside her and looked dejectedly at the overgrown garden.
The chaise stopped, the footman let down the steps, and Julia alighted. She climbed the broad shallow steps to the front door. Before she could reach the knocker, the door swung open to reveal an austere looking woman in her late sixties, dressed in black with a white cap, the keys of office attached to her waist. A middle-aged man in livery hovered behind her.
‘Miss Farraday. I bid you welcome to Winchelsea. I am Mrs Knight, Mr Farraday’s housekeeper.’
The voice was grave, the face solemn but not unfriendly. Tired as she was, Julia gave her warmest smile.
‘I am so pleased to meet you at last, Mrs Knight. This is my maid, Smithers.’
Housekeeper and maid eyed one another warily.
‘Mr Ridges will attend to your luggage.’ Mrs Knight inclined her head regally to the man, who gave Julia a fleeting smile and departed down the stairs to the chaise.
‘Would you care to go to your room first to attend to your toilette or wait on Mr Farraday in the day room?’
Julia hesitated briefly. Conscious of her travel-stained appearance and Mrs Knight’s all too critical eye, she chose carefully.
‘I will see my Great Uncle, thank you, Mrs Knight.’
With some trepidation, she followed the housekeeper down the hall to the day room. The light was dim despite a small fire, and it took her a moment to see him, swathed as he was in several scarves and with a cap on to protect his head from draughts, sitting in a deep armchair. Julia curtseyed and waited while he appraised her from eyes that she suddenly remembered.
‘Your mother was a beauty. You take after your father’s family.’
Despite his age, the voice had surprising strength. Julia felt the colour rising in her cheeks. Although she was too tall, too thin for conventional beauty, hair mousy brown and not fashionably dark, nor or her nose aquiline, she knew that her wide grey eyes looked directly at the world, and her complexion and teeth were good.
A smile trembled around her lips as she answered, ‘Quite so, sir.’
‘Humph,’ he muttered. ‘Come closer. Knight, bring the candles.’
Mrs Knight moved across to a sideboard and returned bearing a candelabra, which she held beside Julia.
‘Humph,’ he muttered again. ‘You will find life very dull in this house after what you’ve been accustomed to.’
Wearily, Julia tried to explain that she didn’t in the least mind peace and solitude, but he impatiently curtailed her explanation.
‘We dine early in the country, Miss. You had best get ready. Knight, show her to her room,’ and he waved a trembling hand in dismissal.
Julia curtsied once more, and with a feeling akin to relief, followed the housekeeper from the room.