Authors: Lizzie Church
Thomas and the postilion were at that moment hauling the young lady’s mama out of the carriage (a more challenging task than that for the two sisters although, as Lydia thought a little unkindly, a lot less of a challenge than the one that Mrs Abdale would have posed).
‘Of course they must. The house is only a step away. It is the least kindness we can offer you after such a terrible ordeal.’
Amidst many thanks and protestations that they ‘really were too kind’ and ‘should not trouble themselves over them, they really were nothing but shaken up by the accident’ Lydia and Thomas managed to shepherd the whole family into the vicarage kitchen, which felt pleasantly cool after the heat of the dusty road. Elizabeth, claiming Lydia’s vacated position at the window, had established their progress and was already boiling some water on the fire. In no time at all they were introducing themselves and drinking tea. Had their guests not looked quite so shaken and dusty Lydia thought that it could have seemed for all the world like they were paying a routine morning call.
The introductions revealed that Mrs Taylor and her daughters, Lucy and Emma, were travelling down to Brighton for the benefit of Emma’s health.
‘We had only taken the post chaise because our travelling carriage was laid up in London, undergoing some repair,’ explained Mrs Taylor, ruefully. ‘Our intention had been to put our accommodation in Brighton to rights while Mr Taylor superintends the repairs to the carriage before following us in a few days’ time. We should never have taken a post chaise had Emma not insisted on trying it. It has proved a sad experiment. One cannot trust these hired vehicles – we should have been much better waiting for our own carriage to be repaired.’
‘And yet we have a hundred carriages passing our door quite safely every day. It appears that you had got caught up in a crowd intent on enjoying a prize fight, or some such entertainment. We are not usually rowdy in Netley. You have been most unfortunate, Mrs Taylor. I am only glad that we have been able to offer you some help.’
Despite the circumstances of their unexpected visit and the tiny proportions of the main room in which they found themselves (the likes of which young Emma, at least, was hardly likely to have ever experienced before) the Taylors seemed to feel immediately at home in Netley Vicarage. Indeed, not only did Lydia feel at once a great liking for Miss Taylor who,
at about eight
een years old had all the assurance and elegance of a veteran of the ton but without the arrogance which so often accompanies it, but Elizabeth and her mama also found so much of mutual interest – from the same teacups as each other (albeit that Elizabeth’s were probably much more sadly chipped than her guest’s) to a shared enthusiasm for the novels of Mrs Radcliffe (in spite of Elizabeth’s perverse preference for ‘The Italian’ over ‘Udolpho’) that they began to feel that the accident which had thrown them together was not such an unfortunate affair after all. Were it not for the obvious pain under which Miss Taylor was labouring, which prevented her from playing any great part in the conversation, they would all have felt well pleased with the acquaintance. As it was, Lydia’s continual petitions that the young lady allow the doctor to be sent for were finally successful and Thomas was despatched immediately to summon Dr William to the house.
Before the doctor could arrive Thomas had seen the coach removed and the road cleared of debris. A small amount of luggage belonging to the Taylors was deposited in the doorway and nothing found to be missing apart from a purse of Miss Emma, which had been snatched through the broken window almost before she had realised it. Luckily it had contained nothing but a handkerchief and a few coins.
‘We are fortunate in having so little to account for, Dr Bridger,’ explained Mrs Taylor. ‘We have sent some on ahead with the maids, you see, and Mr Taylor is charged with bringing the remainder on his journey next week. See, Emma, we have lost your purse but I am sure that Lucy will make you a new one and we shall quickly fill it with coins.’
The arrival of Dr William put an end to a slight lull in the conversation and Thomas, out of respect for Miss Taylor’s dignity, retired to his study at once. Dr William shook his head over the dainty, kid-booted ankle held out for his inspection. Even to Lydia’s untrained eye the limb looked sore and swollen and she was not surprised at the sober tone in which the doctor delivered his judgement.
‘There is little I can do but to order rest,’ he said, packing up his instruments in a small leather case. ‘A cold bandage every few hours will help to relieve the pain but the best remedy will be a break of at least two days before resuming the journey to Brighton.’
Miss Taylor looked at her mother in anguish.
‘Oh mama,’ she cried. ‘Whatever can be done? I fear the doctor is right – I really cannot walk on this foot and the thought of being jolted and thrown about in a carriage is really too awful just at present. Yet wherever can we stay in such a tiny village as this?’
Elizabeth stepped quickly into the breach.
‘As for that, my dear Miss Taylor, let your accommodation be the least of your worries. Though you find us a little cramped at the vicarage I hope we shall always find enough room for someone in need. I hope you will feel able to stay with us until your ankle is perfectly well. I should be insulted in the extreme should you feel obliged to move on for want of a room.’
The gratitude conveyed in the eyes of both mother and daughter was unmistakable. At first, indeed, Mrs Taylor was inclined to protest against Mrs Bridger’s generosity but eventually, knowing this to be in the best interests of her injured darling, she submitted to Elizabeth’s pressing and accepted the offer on her daughter’s behalf.
‘But as for Emma and myself,’ she proclaimed, in a manner which brooked no opposition. ‘There can be no question of us burdening you as well. You find us fully fit and refreshed and more than capable of completing our journey today. Perhaps if Lucy can accept your kindness for a few days until her papa can come to collect her I shall be forever indebted to you. As for Emma and myself, let there be no question of our staying. I am keen to reach Brighton as soon as possible and there is no occasion for delay.’
She was so determined on this point that Elizabeth, probably secretly a little relieved that she and Thomas should not have to remove themselves from the vicarage in order to provide their guests with a room, nodded her head in agreement and pressed Mrs Taylor no more.
‘You may be assured that your daughter will be given every possible attention,’ she said. ‘I am persuaded that just a few days’ rest will see a great improvement in her condition.
We can set up a small bed for her in the study. It will not be much but it will enable her to remain on this floor, whilst Lydia, I am sure, will be more than pleased to have her company.’
The arrangements made, everything became a bustle again as Mrs Taylor and her younger daughter prepared to resume their journ
ey. Thomas harnessed Sir John’s
donkey cart
to take them to ‘The Bell’ re
ady to catch the next Brighton S
tage
(an equipage which made Miss Emma giggle hysterically, much to her mama’s embarrassment
and Thomas’s amusement)
. With many thanks and much waving of hands they were on their way, the sadly shabby vehicle picking up
a modicum of
speed as Thomas edged it carefully onto the Brighton road.
‘I don’t know which I dislike more – London or Brighton,’ confessed Miss Taylor as she and Lydia sat together in Thomas’s study the next morning. Lydia was carefully pinning one of Elizabeth’s gowns onto her new friend so that Miss Taylor’s own gown could be washed out and repaired. This was quite a tricky process, as Miss Taylor was somewhat more rotund and a little shorter than Elizabeth and it was necessary to hitch up the garment other than just at the hem. Miss Taylor still looked rather pale but her deceptively angelic features looked composed enough as she allowed Lydia to put the finishing touches to her work. ‘The endless round of parties and engagements becomes quite wearisome. I should much rather be returning to Bedfordshire. I enjoy the country life. But Emma suffers most shockingly from the influenza and mama is determined that she should benefit from the sea air over the summer.’
‘I can only envy you even so,’ replied Lydia. ‘I have never been to the sea-side. The prospect of a couple of months in Brighton would be such a treat for me. I must confess to finding country life a little dull at times, although I do enjoy the glorious walks around here. However,’ she continued, with an almost imperceptible sigh, ‘at least I shall not want for occupation shortly, for in July I move to Netley Court over the road to act as companion to the invalid daughter of the house.’
She reddened slightly as she said this. However, she had determined on saying nothing of her real intentions until Sir John himself should know of them.
Lucy’s blue eyes widened.
‘Lord,’ she said, evidently quite shocked. ‘I would never have thought it. Why, it must be the most disagreeable thing imaginable to be compelled to seek employment like that.’
‘And yet it is the lesser of two evils for me. Had Sir John not been so good as to create this position for me I would probably have had to go out to some family as governess. You will already have gathered that my aunt is with child, and my sister is likely to need some support for the rest of her life. I regret that I have no money of my own, nor any other opportunity for providing it. I cannot remain dependent at the vicarage. At least this way I remain among friends. I have to be grateful for the independence it will bring to me.’
‘You must think me a perfect looby for complaining about London and Brighton when you have such pu
rgatory ahead. Why, I’d as lief
perform on the stage as act companion in some stuffy old house...’
‘But Netley Court is scarcely a stuffy old house,’ protested Lydia, not altogether truthfully. ‘And think how conveniently placed it is for the vicarage. It will not be impossible for me to journey backwards and forwards several times each day, should I wish it. Just think of the alternative.’
Lydia was aware that she may appear to be justifying her choice as much to herself as to Lucy, so she smiled brightly at her in recompense. Lucy remained unconvinced, but a sudden sharp pain from her ankle made further discussion impossible for a time. Her face brightened, however, at the appearance of cake, fresh from the oven, and she was easily persuaded into accepting a generous portion. The cake demolished and composure regained she began to gossip quite happily once again.
The week sped by, marked only by Miss Taylor’s ever improving condition and Lydia’s own thoughtful state of mind. The return of Sir John was of the most immediate concern to her. She hardly knew whether she wished him to remain as long as possible in Town or return that day so that she could finally seal her fate. Either way, the luxury of choice was denied her. Sir John did not reappear to claim her and the days sped inexorably on.
On the day before Mr Taylor was due in Netley to reclaim his daughter a letter arrived for Lucy. Its contents caused her to cry out with joy.
‘It is a letter from mama,’ she said. ‘I knew she would, when I asked her – she is the dearest mama in the world. How very accommodating – and to respond so quickly – it will be perfectly splendid, I assure you. But there – I am running on like a nobcock and you are dying to know the news – and I do hope that you will be able to accept the invitation. I should be so very much obliged. We should have so much fun.’
Lydia felt perplexed and excited at the same time.
‘What ever are you talking about, Miss Taylor? I cannot understand two words together.’
‘Forgive me – of course – I am just so excited and pleased. I wrote to mama to ask whether you could come to Brighton with me for a few weeks – it would be so splendid as we are become such fir
m friends already, and you
told me
before
how much you would like to visit. And here – she has written straight back to say that you would be more than welcome, should you choose to come. Oh, do say you’ll come, Miss Barrington. I should be so pleased if you would...’
Lydia’s eyes sparkled. For a moment she allowed herself the luxury of forgetting the situation she was in and imagining herself at the sea-side. She longed to see the bright skies and twinkling blue water
-and here was her chance.
But then she remembered that she was not the mistress of her own destiny – that Sir John would be expecting an answer as soon as he returned from Town, and that this might happen any day. And yet – it was such an opportunity for her. Why, she might never have the chance again.
‘Perhaps you should ask your aunt and uncle,’ suggested Miss Taylor, noticing Lydia’s hesitation. ‘I should hate you to feel under any pressure to accept.’
Lydia assured her that, were the decision entirely in her hands, she would be packing her trunk that moment. ‘As it is, I shall have a word with my aunt,’ she assured her. ‘Elizabeth will know exactly what I should do.’
And so Lydia found herself pouring out her news to Elizabeth – Sir John’s proposal, her decision to accept him, her inclination to accept Miss Taylor’s kind invitation – as they prepared the dinner later in the day. Miss Taylor diplomatically retired to the back yard, where Susan was already collecting the eggs, and Thomas was still out on his rounds.