‘Thank you! So very kind! If it is not a trouble!’
Mrs Scorrier, who had been looking appraisingly about her, laughed at this, and exclaimed: ‘You will make Miss Lanyon think you quite a goose, my love, if you talk like that! You must remember that you are in your own house, must she not, dear Miss Lanyon? Some tea would be very welcome, though I do not in general indulge in that luxury at this hour. But Charlotte, I must tell you, is in a delicate situation, and although we lay at Doncaster last night I daresay she is quite done-up.’
‘In a delicate situation!’ Venetia looked in some amazement at Charlotte. ‘You have been married for some time, then!’
‘July,’ whispered Charlotte, blushing. ‘Conway was on furlough, you see – in Paris.’
‘I don’t wonder you should look amazed, Miss Lanyon!’ said Mrs Scorrier, disposing herself on a sofa beside the fire, and drawing off her gloves. ‘I promise you I was so much amazed that I let Sir Conway sweep me quite off my feet. Such a whirlwind-romance as it was! A case of love at first sight, and nothing would do for Sir Conway but to carry his treasure back to Headquarters with him. Indeed, I believe if I had refused my consent to the marriage he would positively have eloped with her!’
‘Oh, Mama!’ faintly protested Charlotte.
‘But – you were not previously acquainted? I had supposed – Well, that was certainly a romance! I shall look forward to your telling me all about it – when you have had some tea!’
She excused herself gracefully, and went away to confer with Mrs Gurnard. She had seen her standing at the foot of the stairs when she had entered the house, and had known, without venturing to meet her speaking eye, that she was far from pleased. She had now acquired reinforcements, in the persons of Nurse and Ribble, and no more than a glance at these three devoted retainers was enough to inform Venetia that trouble lay ahead. No time was lost in disclosing its root: upon being desired to send in a tea-tray to the new arrivals Mrs Gurnard replied in icy accents: ‘I have already ordered it to be done, Miss Venetia – her ladyship’s mama having desired me to do so. Not,’ she added carefully, ‘that it was necessary for her to have spoken to me on the matter, for it was on the tip of my tongue to have asked her ladyship if she would take some tea, or a glass of wine, to refresh her after her journey.’
‘Miss Venetia!’ broke in Nurse. ‘In my very hearing that Mrs Scorrier, or whatever she calls herself, told Mrs Gurnard to be sure the beds were well-aired! If she had had the audacity to say such a thing to me I’d have told her to her head that this is a gentleman’s seat, and not a common inn!’
‘I would not so demean myself, Nurse,’ said Mrs Gurnard loftily. ‘But when it comes to her saying that the best bedchamber must be prepared instantly for her ladyship –’
‘– and informing us that until her fine London abigail arrives here one of the housemaids must wait on her ladyship!’ interpolated Nurse.
‘– I felt obliged to say, miss, that no doubt you would give me whatever orders you thought proper.’
‘That’s just what I said, ma’am!’ nodded Ribble approvingly. ‘The lady seemed to feel, Miss Venetia, that without she attended to the matter herself no one here would think to send in to York tomorrow to meet the young woman, who, I understand, will be coming by the stage. I trust I was able to set her mind at rest. I assured her, miss, that I shouldn’t fail to ask you what you wish done.’
With a sinking heart Venetia applied herself to the task of soothing these ruffled sensibilities. With only one of the indignant parties did she achieve a modicum of success: Nurse, learning that the bride was already in the family way, showed by the fanatical light in her eyes that this circumstance did much to reconcile her to Charlotte. Though lamentably unworthy of the position she had been called upon to fill she could (and, indeed, must) be tolerated for the sake of the infant over whom Nurse had every intention of exercising the fullest control. Mrs Gurnard, foreseeing that the happy event would elevate Nurse once more to her vacated throne, spoke ominously of her advancing years and inability to accustom herself to new ways; and Ribble, not presuming to comment upon an affair of such delicacy, added a still more sinister note to the symposium by begging leave to enquire whether Mrs Scorrier would be making a prolonged stay at Undershaw.
Having succeeded in slightly mollifying these important members of the household Venetia prepared to grapple with the far more difficult task of persuading Aubrey to behave at least with propriety towards his sister-in-law and her mama. He had driven off to the stables without having uttered one word, and Venetia had thought it prudent to refrain from making any attempt to detain him. She guessed that he must have come into the house through the garden-door, and went to look for him in the library, reflecting, as she walked down the broad passage that led to it from the front hall, that a very little of Mrs Scorrier’s somewhat overpowering personality would suffice to turn Aubrey into as obstinate a recluse as ever his father had been. As she had expected, he was in the library. He had obviously been awaiting her appearance with a good deal of impatience, for he demanded almost before she had shut the door into the anteroom: ‘What have you done with them? Do you believe such a tale? I don’t! Even Conway couldn’t serve us such a trick!’
‘That was my own thought,’ she admitted. ‘But it won’t do, love: it must be true! A horrid shock, wasn’t it? I don’t yet know how we are to make the best of it, but that’s what we must do.’
‘Don’t you know? Then I’ll tell you! We’ll set up house for ourselves – exactly as you planned to do in this event!’
‘Yes, of course, but we can’t do so immediately, my dear! You must perceive how impossible it would be! Until Conway returns I’m responsible for Undershaw.’
‘And failing you, Mytchett!’ he said swiftly. ‘Conway empowered both of you to act for him. I remember Mytchett’s coming here to discuss the terms of the power of attorney with you before he sent it to Conway to be signed!’
‘To be sure he did, but that was because he knew he was very much fitter than I to take care of the invested capital, and, of course, any legal business that might arise. He did not bargain to have all the everyday affairs of the estate thrust upon him as well. Besides, Aubrey, we could not leave Undershaw the instant Conway’s wife entered it! It would be most improper, and unkind as well.’
‘As improper and as unkind as to have foisted her on to us without one word of warning?’
‘Well, I fancy that wasn’t her fault. In fact, I’m sure of it. Poor creature, she is so much mortified she dare hardly speak above a whisper! I am very sorry for her. And I don’t find her in the least objectionable, love: she seems to be a gentle, shy sort of a girl, and I daresay we shall soon grow to be very much attached to her.’
‘Do you? And as for her mother, I collect we shall positively dote on her!’
She laughed. ‘For my part, no! A detestable woman – she has set up the servants’ backs already, and mine too, a little! But I don’t mean to show her anything but civility, and I beg you won’t either!’
He looked at her out of narrowed eyes, but said nothing. The most she could wring from him was a promise that he would say nothing uncivil to Mrs Scorrier unless she offered him provocation, and with this she had to try at least to be satisfied. But as what Aubrey might regard as provocation depended to a large extent upon his mood her expectations were not high; and it was with considerable foreboding that she took him to the drawing-room to be formally introduced.
They found the two ladies discussing tea and macaroons. Mrs Scorrier welcomed Venetia into the room with a gracious smile, saying: ‘Such delicious tea, dear Miss Lanyon! I must really ask the housekeeper where she procures it.’ She then saw that Aubrey had entered the room in his sister’s wake, and included him in her welcome. He bowed rather stiffly, and shook hands with her before turning to Charlotte, and saying: ‘How do you do? How did you leave my brother! Will he soon
be following you?’
‘I don’t know – I hope – I did not like to leave him, but Mama thought –’
‘Mama thought that her daughter would be very much better away from the hurly-burly of Cambray!’ interrupted Mrs Scorrier, with the laugh that was already beginning to irritate Venetia. ‘Your brother will certainly be at home by the end of the year, for the Duke means to begin removing the Army at the beginning of next month. Miss Lanyon, I have been saying to Charlotte what a pretty room this is! Quite charming, indeed, and wants nothing but fresh hangings to make it as elegant a saloon as any I have seen.’
Venetia was a little taken aback by this, but replied with composure, and, in the hope that if she could engage Mrs Scorrier in conversation Aubrey and Charlotte might become acquainted, sat down beside her on the sofa.
Mrs Scorrier was perfectly ready to talk, and soon showed that she possessed the ability to maintain more than her share of one conversation while interpolating remarks every now and then into another. Whatever was addressed to her daughter she answered, and whatever Charlotte said she either corrected or amplified. Her manner was good-humoured, she smiled almost continuously, but it was not long before Venetia became convinced that she was being regarded with suspicious hostility. Mrs Scorrier was lavish in paying her compliments, but contrived at the same time to disparage; and Venetia, who had never before encountered her like, was puzzled to account for her attitude. She seemed to be determined to see in her daughter’s sister-in-law a foe whom it was necessary to overcome; and by talking about the changes Charlotte would no doubt inaugurate at Undershaw, and assuring Venetia how well she understood what must be her feelings at being obliged to hand over the reins of government to another, she made it plain that she was very jealous of Charlotte’s rights, and very ready to do battle in defence of them.
At the end of nearly an hour, when Mrs Gurnard came in, at her most stately, to offer to conduct the two ladies to their respective bedchambers, Venetia knew that the comfort of Undershaw was over, and that the immediate future promised nothing but strife and vexation. In addition to her hostility Mrs Scorrier possessed a managing disposition, and an uncontrollable desire to show everyone, from Venetia down to the gardener’s boy, a better way of performing any given task, whether it was the direction of a household or the preservation of geraniums. Even the cook, whose macaroons Mrs Scorrier had declared to be as good as Gunter’s, was to be given a recipe which would be found to be superior; and, as though the mental vision conjured up by this promise was not horrid enough, she further promised to furnish Venetia with the name of an excellent surgeon who, she had no doubt at all, would know just what to do to cure Aubrey’s lameness. Venetia acquitted her of malice, but found no difficulty in understanding why it was that so many people had (according to herself) so frequently behaved disgracefully to her.
Once she was assured that the bedchamber prepared for Charlotte had been occupied by her predecessor she was pleased to approve of it; but when Venetia smiled at Charlotte, and said: ‘You will tell me, won’t you, if you have not everything you need?’ she shook a reproving finger, and said in a rallying tone: ‘No, no, Miss Lanyon, don’t, I beg of you, encourage my lazy little puss to depend on you! I have been telling her that now she is a married lady and the mistress of her own house she must learn to give her own orders, and not rely upon me, or you, to manage for her.’
When Venetia presently left her own room, and went downstairs again, she found Charlotte seated alone in the drawing-room. She was elegantly dressed in an evening-gown of silk with a demi-train, but she looked far more like a scared schoolgirl than a fashionable matron, and she instinctively rose to her feet as soon as she saw Venetia. Glad to have an opportunity of talking to her without the intervention of Mrs Scorrier, Venetia exerted herself to put her at her ease. She was only partially successful, and soon realised that while Charlotte’s pliant disposition and amiability of temper made her anxious to please, these meek attributes also made it impossible for her to withstand the domination of her strong-minded mother. If she had put it into words (a feat of which she was wholly incapable) that Mrs Scorrier had warned her to beware of her sister-in-law, that fact could not have been more evident; and since she had neither a sense of humour nor the habit of plain speaking, Venetia’s smiling request that she might not be regarded as an ogress merely served to cast her into incoherent embarrassment. Only when she spoke of Conway did she become at all natural, and forget her shyness in hero-worship. He was a demi-god who had miraculously fallen in love with her; the very thought of his magnificence made her cheeks glow, and her soft eyes shine; and in recounting his daring deeds and sage utterance she grew quite animated.
Venetia might be amused by this unrecognisable portrait of her brother but she was also touched, and readily perceived what it was that had attracted Conway to this somewhat insipid girl. She said kindly: ‘It must have made you very unhappy to have been obliged to leave him. I do most sincerely feel for you!’
Tears sprang to Charlotte’s eyes. ‘Oh, it was so dreadful! I didn’t wish to go, but he thought it the only thing, because Colonel Skidby was uncivil to Mama, which made it so very awkward for Conway, because of course Mama wouldn’t submit to being insulted, and so we couldn’t invite the Colonel to our parties, which made it excessively uncomfortable for Conway! Only fancy! that horrid man spread the most untruthful tales about poor Mama, and a great many people believed him, and took his part, and behaved very unkindly, so that she was positively obliged to tell Lord Hill the whole story, which made Conway say that – which made him think that it would be best if we came back to England!’ She ended this impulsive recital on an apprehensive note, and added hurriedly: ‘And, besides that, I was not very well!’
‘I don’t wonder at it!’ said Venetia, a merry twinkle in her eye. ‘In your place I rather think I should have taken to my bed! I can conceive of nothing worse than finding oneself in the centre of a quarrel.’
‘Oh, it was so dreadful!’ said Charlotte involuntarily, and shuddering at the recollection. ‘It made me quite hysterical, so of course Mama would not leave me – not that there was any question – for I am sure I could never bear to be parted from her, and particularly when I’m feeling poorly!’ She began to pleat her handkerchief, and said haltingly: ‘Mama – Mama sometimes says things – but she doesn’t mean them – and she has had a great deal to bear, because Papa was not wealthy, and his family behaved in such a disagreeable way, taking my Aunt Elizabeth’s part when she was rude to poor Mama, and not making her beg pardon, so that there was nothing for Mama to do but to cut the connection. And then Papa died of fever, which he contracted in the Peninsula, for he was a military man, like Conway, you know, and so Mama had only my sister and me to live for.’
‘Have you just the one sister?’ enquired Venetia, unable to think of a suitable comment to make on Mrs Scorrier’s trials.
‘Yes, my sister Fanny. She is older than I am, but we were the greatest friends! It was so sad! She was married two years ago, and has a dear little baby, which I have never seen, because my brother-in-law, whom we had thought to be a most amiable man, has such a jealous disposition that he was quite unpleasant to Mama when we went to stay with him and Fanny, and said he would not have her meddling and making trouble in his house, only because she thought it her duty to advise my sister to turn off the housekeeper, who was quite shockingly extravagant, and even, Mama suspected, dishonest!’
Before Venetia had well recovered from the effects of this artless speech Mrs Scorrier had entered the room, and the impulse to warn Charlotte that any attempt to rid Undershaw of its housekeeper could only lead to the discomfiture of her mama had to be abandoned.
Mrs Scorrier came in all affability, and full of brisk plans for the future. She seemed to have extracted from the housemaid sent by Mrs Gurnard to wait on her every detail of the organisation of Undershaw, and she saw much room for improvement. What was very prope
r for an unmarried female living in retirement with her brother would by no means do for Lady Lanyon. In particular did her consequence require that there should be two uniformed menservants under the butler; but Miss Lanyon must not be thinking that this need mean any considerable increase in expenditure, for (if she might venture to say so) she believed that the number of females employed in the house was excessive. ‘Not that I mean to say that you have not managed very creditably, my dear Miss Lanyon,’ she assured Venetia kindly. ‘Indeed, I must own I am most agreeably surprised by all I have seen, and can truthfully say that you have no need to blush for your housekeeping.’
‘None at all!’ agreed Venetia, amusement quivering in her voice. ‘Though I might blush to accept a compliment that is due to another! Mrs Gurnard has been housekeeper at Undershaw since before I was born.’ She turned her head to address Charlotte, saying lightly: ‘I expect she will wish to conduct you through every department of the house tomorrow. Don’t mind it if she should seem a trifle stiff! She will very soon take to you when she sees that you don’t mean to upset all her economies and arrangements. Talk to her about Conway! She dotes on him, you know – even allows him to call her his dear old Gurney, which I should never dare to do. She will very likely present you with her keys. I’ve no need to warn you, I’m persuaded, that you must beg her to keep them!’
‘Oh, no! I should not dream of –’
‘Well, as to that, my love,’ interrupted Mrs Scorrier, ‘I believe it is best to begin as you mean to continue. It is very natural that Miss Lanyon should be shy of asserting herself, having known the woman for so long, but for you it is another matter. It is always the same with old retainers! They are quick to take advantage, and become perfect tyrants. If you will be advised by me, my dear –’