Authors: Lizzie Church
Foiled in this attempt to change the subject Lydia tried a little harder.
‘Well, certainly the weather should enable a little riding. Perhaps it may do Miss Judith some good as well.’
‘As for that,’ put in Fanny, ‘I have hopes of a different kind. I have just received a letter from my aunt in Tunbridge Wells. An acquaintance of hers, who suffers from similar symptoms to Judith’s, has apparently tried the waters at the spa there and is said to be much improved. I have almost persuaded papa to take Judith there to try the same cure. It would be wonderful if she could get a little better.’
Lydia glanced across the table to where Judith was listlessly picking at a plate of chicken legs. How would her own position be affected if she recovered, and married? Or what if she were to die? The future, having seemed so certain, suddenly became less so. Although not an attractive prospect, at that moment the role of companion did appear to be marginally better than the void that could replace it.
Sir John noticed the slight frown that had appeared on Lydia’s face. He immediately tried to rectify it.
‘Come, come, my dear,’ he cried, in his peculiarly loud way. ‘Frowning at my table? What displeases you, eh? The pie not sweet enough? Must have plenty of sugar if you like it – or are you wondering when that lazy servant will ever fill your glass again? Hey – William – Miss Barrington’s glass is empty. Cannot have her waiting for her drink...’
It was a relief to be able to escape into the quiet of the withdrawing room, but a short lived one. Much to Lydia’s surprise Sir John was soon in the doorway, joining the ladies. She had expected a quiet time of some hours before his appearance from the dining room, knowing him to be fond of his port, but in fact all the gentlemen returned promptly, following his lead.
To be fair, Sir John played an excellent host but as soon as he had ensured everyone’s comfort by shifting a chair here and a footstool there he immediately robbed Lydia of hers by drawing up a chair close to her and talking to her for most of the rest of the evening. Lydia was denied even the quiet company of Judith as a last resort. Worn out by the unaccustomed entertainment she retired immediately after dinner and failed to reappear.
‘A grand thing, what, this marrying, eh?’ he began. ‘Never seen Fanny so lively in all my life. Fond of the lad meself, of course. Couldn’t want for a better fellow – smart and polite and not averse to a bit of sport. Takes his fences in flying style. Can’t think of anyone better at all.’
‘Mr Wyndham is certainly a most pleasing young man, sir.’
‘Pleasing? Aye, I should say so. Couldn’t do much better than a fine young man like him. What kind of young men do you like, my dear? You’re all for the outdoor life, I know. Like riding and country walks. Will a sportsman be the lucky fellow, eh? What do you think?’
Lydia was more than a little nonplussed.
‘Indeed, I scarcely know, Sir John. I am not well acquainted with many young men.’
Did Sir John look just a little relieved?
‘Fine gel like you? Hard to believe. Just being coy, I daresay. Bit of coyness is all well and good in a woman. Don’t like them too forward. Bit of coyness suits you. Better than being too
... err
... ‘
Lydia, deeming that this final remark required no reply, and Sir John for a moment left speechless (for once) as he tried to find just the right word to make his point, she racked her brains furiously for ways of escaping the attentions of her host. But no sooner had he finished with one embarrassing subject, having given up the unequal struggle to find the word he needed, than he began again with the next.
‘What do you think of the Court?’ he demanded, looking at her intently and causing her to colour a little. ‘Make some changes if you could, what? Daresay you find it stuffy – old fashioned – for a lively young lady like you. Not averse to a little fashion, you know. Don’t mind it in the least as long as it doesn’t alter things too much. A little alteration now and again. What anyone would want to do.’
‘It is quite usual for tastes to differ, sir. I should not presume to say that my ideas have any more to recommend them than anyone else’s.’
‘Tastes, you say?’ throwing his head back in a mighty guffaw. ‘Aye, tastes differ. You’re not wrong there. My wife – pretty young woman she was – in your style, I should say, but with more meat on her (could soon fatten you up – will get cook to serve up what you like) – different tastes from me. Didn’t stop us from rubbing along together. Got two daughters to prove that, and a dead one too. Her wallpaper in the
parlour
. Always liked that room the best. Others too dark for her liking but you can’t go changing everything at once. All this modern fancy spindly furniture now – no good for me, Miss Barrington. Would break it up before I’d sat down – don’t you think?’
‘The furniture at Netley is quite solid, to be sure.’
‘You think it too clumsy? Can see that you might. But there – you must tell me what you do not like – will see what I can do. No promises, mind. I make no promises at all. I will please you if I can, my dear – you can’t ask more than that.’
‘You are far too good, Sir John. I don’t expect you to make any concessions for my comfort at all. I am happy just to have the opportunity of some occupation...’
‘Does me good to see you smile, my dear. Need not thank me, you know.’
Lydia felt an ever increasing desire to remove herself from what was proving to be a supremely embarrassing situation. True, she had only limited experience of the treatment that a companion could reasonably expect from her employer but she could not imagine that even the most
favoured companion
would be invited to have her say on the colours of the walls. It was almost as if, in his own mind, she was replacing his former ... no, perish the thought. Maybe, just maybe, he was trying to make her feel at home.
An opportunity for escape presented itself at last on the appearance of the supper things. Lydia grasped the moment with the gratitude of a drowning man clutching at a stick. In an instant she was across the ro
om and assisting in the distribution of
the tea things. This necessarily took quite a while and by the time this was over Sir John had remembered his duty as a host and quitted his place to instigate a conversation elsewhere.
For all this it was not altogether an uncomfortable evening. Fanny and Mr Wyndham were happy and kind and entertained their guests mightily by their nonsensical chatter.
‘I have spoken with Fanny about our curricle ride,’ confided Mr Wyndham, indulging himself by teasing his beloved. ‘She has been in agonies these past few days wondering what it was that passed between us – but I shall retain our secrecy and keep her curiosity on the boil.’
Lydia laughed.
‘If you wish it then I cannot deny you,’ she said, smiling at Fanny, who appeared quite unconcerned. ‘However, as second choice for the privilege of a ride I cannot pretend that she has anything to fear.’
‘There, you have ruined things already,’ cried Mr Wyndham, pretending to frown. ‘How ever am I to tease my future wife
when her best friends will give
me no support?’
‘Tease her not is my advice,’ suggested Dr Bridger, who was making his preparations to leave. ‘Tease h
er not. The rewards will be great
er in the end.’
Sir John’s attentions towards her now being so marked Lydia lived in constant fear of being caught alone with him on her visits to Netley Court. By the beginning of May Fanny’s wedding plans were already well enough advanced for her to require a trip to London to order and fit her clothes and it was much to Lydia’s relief that she heard of Sir John’s intention to accompany her there to see to some business of his own.
‘And what’s more, Judith has agreed to try the cure at Tunbridge Wells,’ Fanny told her excitedly. ‘I am convinced that a month with my aunt there will work wonders.’
On the day before their departures Lydia was sitting with Fanny in the parlour. They were debating whether to take a walk in the pleasure grounds to admire the season’s bulbs (or at least, those with strength and height enough to win the battle with the grass and weeds) or to supervise the packing of the trunks and band boxes essential for a trip into Town.
‘I think we should take our exercise now,’ Lydia was saying. ‘We may always pack the trunks later but we cannot guarantee that the sun will stay out.’
Just then Sir John came into the room.
‘Ha, Miss Barrington – thought you were here. Come to see Fanny and Ju off have you? That’s th
e spirit. They will miss you, I know
. Kind of you to call.’
‘We were debating whether or not to take a walk, Sir John,’ trying to avoid his gaze. ‘It is such a beautiful day that it is a crime to be stuck indoors. It would be a dreadful waste to let it slip away, especially as Fanny is to be in London for the next few weeks and will miss the best of the weather there.’
‘You make it sound like a prison,’ laughed Fanny. ‘Remember that there are some fine parks and gardens in Town. I shall probably see more of the blossom than you will, stuck in Netley as you are.’
‘Well, maybe,’ admitted Lydia, uncertainly. ‘You have not convinced me yet, though. Town is certainly the best place for society and entertainment but you will be so taken up with the shopping that you will scarcely have time to take a walk.’
‘We will scarcely have time for a walk today unless we set out now,’ said Fanny, glancing at the clock. ‘You know how shatterbrained Hetty is when it comes to packing – I really ought to make sure that she does it all properly first.’
‘You do that, my dear,’ put in Sir John, who had been listening intently. ‘Don’t want to get to Town to find dresses crumpled. Ought t
o see to them yourself
. Dresses – important to young females. Can’t have upsets in Town. You pack. Miss Barrington can take a walk with me.’
Lydia was aghast but there was nothing that she could do. Fanny, the trip to London, even the weather – everything was conspiring against her. There was nothing she could do but to accede to the inevitable with as much good grace as she could muster. She had hoped to avoid this tete a tete with Sir John but it was not to be. She must try to keep him quiet with as much inconsequential chatter as she could muster.
‘It is a beautiful day, is it not, Sir John?’ she began, a little hurriedly. ‘I have always been fond of glorious spring days like this one, even in Bradbury where, you must know, the countryside was rather flat. Papa and I would walk in the park together, and many of the larger houses had pretty gardens as well...I expect Fanny will enjoy her stay in London. It is an exciting place and it is a busy time for her. The Season will be almost through but I daresay she won’t mind that – she will have more interesting things to do than to go to evening crushes...will any of her acquaintance be in Town, do you think?’
She could rattle on no longer, and stopped. If she had hoped, by posing a question, to direct her companion’s mind along trivial lines she was to be sorely disappointed. Sir John was unusually quiet as they walked along in the sunshine. Lydia was disturbed. It was quite out of character for him to be quiet like this. She had never known it before. She tried, but at last was quite unable to resist the temptation of looking at him. She peeped across at his face and instantly regretted it. She appeared to have broken a spell. Sir John caught her eye, and spoke.
‘Been thinking, my dear,’ he began, taking hold of her hand with a suddenness that startled her, and obliging her to stop by him on the narrow gravel path. ‘Been thinking a lot recently. Ought to get myself leg shackled again. Plenty of people doing it. Own daughter going off with that fellow of hers. Have an independence. Need companionship. Not a bad idea at all, don’t you know. You are a sensible girl, my dear. No silly jade. Know wh
at’s good for you
. Pretty bit of muslin, too – there, don’t get embarrassed – no more than the truth. Sister of yours needs looking after. Aunt increasing. Finance slim. You’ve got a pretty way about you. Not too fine for my country ways. Used to managing on your own. Been watching you a long time. Treat Judith well. Like to be outside. Riding. Can’t think of anything better at all. You know what I’m saying, of course. Got no fancy airs myself – not used to wrapping things up in flowery language
- can only say what I mean. You won’t object to that, I know. Well, in short – well, I’d be delighted,’ he concluded, looking at her, an unmistakable tone of tenderness in his voice which at once surprised and touched her, ‘be delighted, my dear, if you would do me the honour of agreeing to be my wife.’
Lydia didn’t know where to look. Although unsurprised by the content of this speech she had managed to suppress the expectation of it so well that now she felt completely unprepared for it and totally incapable of giving him a reply. She hesitated and stared intently at the ground. A tiny bluebell was being crushed under the weight of her companion’s mighty boot. She took a deep breath and then hesitated once again. She could not find any of the words that she knew she ought to say.
‘Not expecting an answer straight away, you know,’ went on Sir John, anxiously. ‘I know – not easy. Lot older than you. Need a real husband, I’ll be bound. Want babies. Must be concerned. Healthy, though. Still have some life and vigour in me yet. Won’t be neglected in that department, that’s for sure. Forgive me – don’t mean to embarrass you. Thinking of your position as well as mine. Far better my wife than daughter’s companion. Much more eligible. Companion – awkward. Wife – secure. Can bring that sister of yours as well. Better for her, too. But don’t go thinking that I shall turn you away. Whatever you decide – welcome at Netley. Nothing to worry about there, my dear – nothing to worry about at all.’