Джорджетт Хейер - A Civil Contract

Adam entered gravely into all his sister’s plans, and was far more successful than Jenny or Mr Chawleigh in convincing her that they would not answer. He wasted no breath on foolish arguments, but he did suggest that perhaps Kean might not think a lady half a head taller than himself quite the ideal stage partner. These casual words sank in; Lydia became thoughtful; and when it next occurred to her sympathetic elder brother that an actress who excelled in comedy would find too little scope for her genius in the company of one acclaimed for his portrayals of the great tragic rôles, she was most forcibly struck by the truth of this observation. So, although it would have been too much to have said that she no longer cherished hankerings, Adam was reasonably confident, when he put her on the Bath Mail with her maid, that she would not prostrate their fond parent by divulging them to her.

Two days later the Lyntons left London, driving to Fontley by easy stages and in the greatest comfort. Much to Jenny’s relief Adam showed no disposition to practise any of his economies, but carried her to Lincolnshire in all the luxury to which she was accustomed.

For her, the journey, in spite of some queasiness, was the most agreeable she had as yet experienced in Adam’s company. Their previous expeditions had taken place when they were so barely acquainted that being shut up together for several hours at a stretch had imposed a strain on them, neither knowing whether the other would like to talk, or to remain silent; and each being anxious not to bore or to appear bored. This awkwardness no longer lay between them; and although they spoke of nothing that went far below the surface they talked with the ease of intimacy, and were able to lapse into companionable silences without feeling any compulsion to seek a new topic for conversation.

At Fontley Jenny was glad tobe idle for some days. She even admitted that she was a little tired, but she assured Adam that the quiet of the country was all that was needed to restore her to high health. He thought, but privately, that it would not be long before she was wishing herself back in London, for however much he might have to occupy him at Fontley he could not imagine what she would find to do.

But Jenny, wandering about the rambling house, peeping into dust-sheeted rooms, discovering treasures in forgotten corners, knew that there was plenty to do. It was work after her own heart, but so morbidly afraid of offending was she that she hardly dared even to alter the position of a chair. When they had entered the Priory Adam had said: “I dare say you will wish to make changes. My mother, you know, doesn’t take much interest in household matters — no such capital housewife as you are, Jenny! Dawes will show you all about, and you must do as you think proper, if you please.”

She did not say: I am only a guest in your house, but it was what she thought, for he uttered the speech just stiltedly enough to betray that it had been rehearsed. It was prompted by his courtesy: she appreciated its generosity, but if he had told her not to meddle she would have been less daunted.

Charlotte driving over from Membury Place, did not help to put her at ease. She came full of kind intentions, but when she entered the Priory she could not help casting an anxious glance round the Great Hall, which was not lost on Jenny. Charlotte had not seen Lynton House since Mr Chawleigh’s hand had fallen heavily upon it, but she knew all about the green stripes, the sphinxes, and the crocodile-legs, and she had dreaded to discover that Fontley had been transformed already into something more nearly resembling Bullock’s Museum than a gentleman’s country seat. Relieved to detect no change in the Hall, she accompanied Jenny upstairs to the Little Drawing-room, saying as she tucked a hand in her arm: “Dear Jenny, you must let me thank you for being so kind to Lydia! She wrote to me, you know: one of her pelting letters, crammed with the tale of her doings! Four pages! Lambert said, in his droll way, that he was thankful she was able to get a frank from Adam, for it would otherwise have ruined us to receive it!”

“Well, there’s no need to thank me, for I never enjoyed anything half as much as having her with me,” replied Jenny. “I miss her sadly, I can tell you.”

“Oh, I’m glad! To be sure, I think everyone must like her, for she is the dearest girl, besides being what Lambert calls full of fun and gig!” They had by this time reached the Little Drawing-room, where Charlotte instantly perceived an alteration. She exclaimed: “Oh, you have taken away the marquetry sewing-table!”

It was mere comment, but it threw Jenny on to the defensive. “I have only moved it into the library,” she said stiffly. “Adam told me I might do so;”

“Yes, of course! I didn’t mean — It just seemed strange not to see it where it always used to be! But I know many people dislike marquetry: my cousin Augusta can’t bear it!”

“I like it very much,” replied Jenny. “It is exactly what I need for my silks and threads, so it was wasted in this room. Adam likes to sit in the library in the evening, you know. We have taken up our readings again — he was used to read to me when we were at Rushleigh — and that’s why I moved the table, so that I’d have my embroidery ready to my hand.”

“Oh, yes! How cosy! I remember thinking how exquisitely you stitched when Mama and I visited you in Russell Square and so much admired the work you were engaged on. It quite put me to shame — and Mama, of course, was never a needle-woman.”

Jenny could not help wondering how the Dowager had occupied herself at Fontley.  Her inspection of the house had given her the poorest opinion of her mother-in-law: besides being no needlewoman she was no housewife either. She had told Jenny that she had been obliged to let the house fall into disrepair, but in her place Jenny would have set stitches to the first split in a brocade curtain; and if her domestic staff had been so much reduced as to have made it impossible for them to keep the furniture polished she would have set about the task herself rather than have allowed wood to grow dull and handles tarnished. She thought that Fontley had suffered as much from a negligent mistress as from an improvident master. The Dowager would have renovated it in excellent taste, but she lacked Jenny’s eye for an undusted table, or a corner left unswept, and, in consequence, her servants had grown careless, even Mrs Dawes, the housekeeper, finding it easier to join her mistress in bemoaning the want of extra footmen and chambermaids than to keep the remaining servants up to their work. Jenny held Mrs Dawes in contempt and showed it. She did not mean to do so, but she knew nothing of dissimulation, and her blunt tongue betrayed her. When every evidence of neglect was attributed to the want of an adequate staff she grew more and more curt, finally losing her temper when Mrs Dawes said: “In the old days, my lady, we always had a steward, and a groom of the chambers, and things were different.”

“Well, I should hope they were!” said Jenny. “Though what a steward has to do with keeping linen in good order I’m sure I don’t know!” She saw the housekeeper stiffen, and added, in an attempt at conciliation: “I can see that more servants are needed, and I’ll speak to his lordship about it.”

But the mischief was done. Mrs Dawes was icily civil thereafter, and showed her hostility when Jenny discovered a dinner-service in one of the cupboards, and exclaimed as she inspected it: “Good gracious, why is this never used, but only that Bristol set, with every plate chipped? Have it all taken out and washed, if you please! It is most elegant!”

“That, my lady, is the Crown Derby china,” responded Mrs Dawes loftily.

“To be sure it is, and with the Chantilly pattern too. Is it quite complete? We will use it instead of the other.”

“Certainly, my lady,” said Mrs Dawes, her eyes downcast, and her hands primly folded. “If it is his lordship’s wish to have the best china used every day I will have it taken out immediately.”

Jenny bit back a tart rejoinder. “I daresay his lordship won’t know one set. from t’other, but we’ll see!”

She put the question to him as they sat at dinner, saying: “I find you have the prettiest Crown Derby china stowed away in a cupboard — the French sprig pattern. Mrs Dawes seems to think it must not be used, but should you object to it if we did use it, my lord?”

“I,” he said, putting up his brows. “Of course I should not!”

“No, I thought you would not — or even notice it!” Jenny said, with one of her sudden smiles.

He perfectly understood why the question had been put to him; he said, knowing that his words would spread through the house: “I daresay I might not. In any event, my dear, I have nothing to say in such matters, and wish you will do as you think best. You are the mistress of Fontley: I shan’t dispute with you over any changes you may like to make.”

Later, he asked her if she would prefer another housekeeper in Mrs Dawes’s place. She said at once: “Oh, no! Pray don’t think — I know she has been here for ever, and didn’t mean — ”

“Try not to rub against the servants!” he said. “I should be very reluctant to turn any of the older ones off: Dawes knew Fontley before I did, you know!”

“Oh, no, no! I never meant — Only they despise me so!” she blurted out.

“They won’t do so when they know you better.” He hesitated, and then said gently: “Don’t speak to them quite so roughly, Jenny! Most of them are such very old friends of mine!”

“I don’t know how to talk to servants,” she confessed. “You do — but it wouldn’t do for me to copy you. I’ll try to go on better, but it does vex me so when — Well, never mind! Is the cook an old friend of yours?”