From our windows we looked down on the churchyard ... tottery old gravestones, some of them, under which lay those who had long since died. I used to read the inscriptions and wondered what the people who lay there were like. Some of the writing on the stones was almost obliterated, so old were they.
Our rooms were big and wide with windows on either side. Opposite the graveyard, we looked on the village green with its pond and the seats where the old men liked to congregate, sometimes talking, sometimes sitting in silence staring at the water before they shuffled off into the inn to drink a pint of ale. "Death on one side," I pointed out to Polly, "and life on the other."
"You're a funny bit of baggage are you," Polly would often reply, for any fanciful remark produced that comment.
Our household consisted of my father, myself, my governess Miss York, Polly, Mrs. Janson the cook-housekeeper, and Daisy and Holly, two lively sisters who shared the housework. I learned later that the governess was there because my mother had brought a little money into the family which had been set aside for my education and I was to have the best possible, no matter what hardship had to be endured to attain this.
I loved my father but he was not as important in my life as Polly was. When I saw him walking across the graveyard from the church to the rectory in his white surplice, prayerbook in hand, fine white hair made untidy by the wind, I felt a great desire to protect him. He seemed so vulnerable, unable to take care of himself, so it was odd to think of him as the guardian of his spiritual flock—particularly when it contained Lady Harriet. He had to be reminded of mealtimes, of when to put on clean clothes, and his spectacles were constantly being lost and found in unexpected places. He would come into a room for something and forget what it was. He was eloquent in the pulpit, but I was sure the villagers at least did not understand his allusions to the classics and the ancient Greeks.
"He'd forget his head if it wasn't fixed on his shoulders," was Polly's comment in the half-affectionate, half-contemptuous tone I knew so well. But she was fond of him and would have defended him with all the rhetoric of her colourful language—sometimes quite different from ours—if the need arose.
It was when I was two years old that I had the adventure of which I could remember so little. I had had the story by hearsay, yet it made me feel I had some connection with the Big House. If Polly had been with me at the time, it would never have happened; and I believe it was due to this that my father realized I must have a nurse who could be trusted.
What happened is an indication of the nature of Fabian Framling and his mother's obsession with him.
Fabian would have been about seven at the time. Lavinia was four years younger and I had been born a year after she was. I had heard details of the story because of the friendship between our servants and those of Framling.
Mrs. Janson, our cook-housekeeper, who worked so well for us and instilled discipline into the house and kept us all in some order, told me the story.
"It was the strangest thing I ever heard," she said. "It was young Master Fabian. His lordship leads them all a fine dance up at the House ... always has done. Lady Harriet thinks the sun, moon and stars shine out of his eyes. She won't have him crossed. A little Caesar, that's what he is. He'll have his own way or there'll be ructions. Heaven knows what he'll be like when he's a bit older. Well, his little majesty is tired of playing the old games. He wants something new, so he thinks he'll be a father. If he wants it ... it's going to be. They tell me up there that he expects everything he wants to be his. And that's no good for anyone, mark my words, Miss Drusilla."
I looked suitably impressed, for I was eager for her to get on with the story.
"You were put in the rectory garden. You could toddle round and that was what you liked to do. They shouldn't have left you. It was that May Higgs, flighty piece, she was. Mind you, she loved little ones ... but she was courting that Jim Fellings at the time ... and he came along. Well, there she is giggling with him ... and didn't see what was happening. Master Fabian was determined to be a father and a father had to have a child. He saw you and thought you would do. So he picked you up and took you to the House. You were his baby and he was going to be your father."
Mrs. Janson put her hands on her hips and looked at me. I laughed. It seemed very funny to me and I liked it. "Go on, Mrs. Janson. What happened then?"
"My goodness, there was a fine how-do-you-do when they found you'd disappeared. They couldn't think where you'd got to. Then Lady Harriet sent for your father. Poor man, he was in a rare flummox. He took May Higgs with him. She was in tears, blaming herself, which was only right that she should do. Do you know, I think that was the start of the rift between her and Jim Fellings. She blamed him. And you know she married Charlie Clay the next year."
"Tell me about when my father went to the House to fetch me."
"Well, talk about a storm! This was one of them tornados. Master Fabian raged and he fumed. He wouldn't give you up.
You were his baby. He had found you. He was going to be your father. You could have knocked us all down with feathers when the rector came back without you. I said to him, 'Where's the baby?' and he said, 'She's staying at the Big House, only for a day or so.' I said, shocked-like, 'She's only a baby.' 'Lady Harriet has assured me that she will be well looked after. Miss Lavinia's nurse will take care of her. She will come to no harm. Fabian flew into such a rage when he thought he was going to lose her that Lady Harriet thought he would do himself some harm.' 'You mark my words,' I said, 'that boy—Lady Harriet's son though he may be—will come to a bad end.' I didn't care if it got back to Lady Harriet. I had to say it."
"And so for two weeks I lived in the Big House."
"You surely did. They said it was real comical to see Master Fabian looking after you. He used to wheel you round the gardens in the push chair which had been Miss Lavinia's. He used to feed you and dress you. They said it was really funny to see him. He's always been such a one for rough games ... and there he was playing the mother. He would have overfed you if it hadn't been for Nancy Cuffley. She put her foot down, took a firm hand for once and he listened. He must have been really fond of you. Goodness knows how long it would have gone on if Lady Milbanke hadn't come to stay with her young Ralph who was a year older than Master Fabian. He laughed at him and told him it was like playing with dolls. It didn't make any difference that this was a live one. It was a girl's game. Nancy Cuffley said Master Fabian was really upset about it. He didn't want you to go away ... but I suppose he thought it was a slur on his manhood to look after a baby."
I loved the story and asked to have it repeated many times.
It was almost immediately after that incident that Polly came.
Whenever I saw Fabian—usually in the distance—I would look at him furtively, and in my mind's eye see him tenderly caring for me. It was so amusing; it always made me laugh.
I fancied, too, that he looked at me in a rather special way, although he always pretended he did not see me.
Because of our standing in the village—the rector was on a level with the doctor and the solicitor, though of course chasms separated us from the heights on which the Framlings dwelt—as I began to grow older I was invited to have tea now and then with Miss Lavinia.
Although I did not exactly enjoy these occasions, I was always excited to go into the house. Before those little tea parties I knew very little of it. I had only seen the hall because it had rained once or twice when the garden fete was in progress and we were allowed to shelter from the rain in the House. I shall always remember the thrill of leaving the hall and mounting the stairs, past the suit of armour, which I imagined would be quite terrifying after dark. I was sure it was alive and that when our backs were turned it was laughing at us.
Lavinia was haughty, overbearing, and very beautiful. She reminded me of a tigress. She had tawny hair and golden lights in her green eyes; her upper lip was short and her beautiful white teeth slightly prominent; her nose was small and very slightly turned up at the tip, which gave a piquancy to her face. But her glory was in her wonderful, abundant curly hair. Yes, she was very attractive.
The first time I went to have tea with her stands out in my mind. Miss York accompanied me. Miss Etherton, Lavinia's governess, greeted us and there was an immediate rapport between her and Miss York.
We were taken to tea in the schoolroom, which was large with panelled walls and latticed windows. There were big cupboards there, which I guessed contained slates and pencils and perhaps books. There was a long table at which generations of Framlings must have learned their lessons.
Lavinia and I regarded each other with a certain amount of hostility. Polly had primed me before I left. "Don't forget, you're as good as she is. Better, I reckon." So with Polly's words ringing in my ears, I faced her more as an adversary than as a friend.
"We'll have tea in the schoolroom," said Miss Etherton, "and then you two can get to know each other." She smiled at Miss York in an almost conspiratorial manner. It was clear that those two would like a little respite from their charges.
Lavinia took me to a window seat and we sat down.
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