Authors: Lizzie Church
‘She has been quite unwell, I’m afraid, although she appears to be a little better now. I returned to Grantham a week ago from Ireland – I had returned there with Mrs Blackman immediately after Christmas as she needed some assistance with a business transaction – to find that she had been confined to her bed for much of the winter. I was very annoyed with her, as you can imagine, as I knew nothing of it. I regret we are not the best correspondents and Edward had not thought to send a message. She was apparently in some danger for a short while but she is over the worst and when I left her a few days ago she was able to get downstairs unaided. There was some talk of Edward escorting her to Bath, I believe. I am sure the waters will do her some good. I will take her there myself if needs be.’
‘Well I hope you will not abandon us as soon as you have arrived here,’ put in Lucy. ‘I have never know anyone for jauntering about the countryside as you do.’
Mr Churchman laughed.
‘I have yet to make up my mind,’ he replied, with a sideways glance at Lydia. ‘My great-aunt would have me stay all year, if I would. I must see what there is to tempt me to remain.’
‘Your great-aunt must suffer a good deal. She can never know from one week to the next whether you are coming to stay.’
‘As for that, Miss Taylor, you must ask her yourself. I daresay you would discount my opinion eve
n were I to give it to you. But
I don’t think you have any right to talk of jauntering about the country, anyway. Why, when I saw your papa last autumn there was no talk of you coming to Brighton this year – yet here you are, in one of the best houses in town, looking as though you are well established here for the whole of the summer.’
‘Well we have Emma to blame for that. Mama thought that she would benefit from a bit of sea-bathing so we have ended up here after all. I must confess I was none too pleased about it – I had far rather go to Bedfordshire – but at least I have had the good fortune to meet up with Miss Barrington, whom I hope to persuade to stay the month at least, so perhaps this year our stay will be more tolerable.’
Mr Churchman flickered another glance at Lydia, who was just then concentrating hard on a particularly complicated section of embroidery.
‘Young Emma is a scamp, Miss Taylor. She is as healthy as the next man and only comes to Brighton for a jaunt. I am surprised that your papa has not spotted the deception. She must feign her ailments more convincingly in order to deceive me.’
‘For shame, Mr Churchman,’ scolded Lucy, with a giggle. ‘You are quite the monster, you know, talking about my poor sister like that. If you had seen her last winter, coughing for hours together and shivering because she couldn’t get warm – if you had seen her then you would not be so unfeeling as to call her a fake. Why, if I did not know you better I should think you perfectly callous. Whatever must Miss Barrington think of you? I’ll warrant you never spoke to her like that.’
Lydia was not inclined to confirm or deny Miss Taylor’s conjecture and focused on her embroidery instead.
Mr Churchman was chastened.
‘I can only apologise, Miss Taylor, and beg your forgiveness immediately. Your sister is the most charming young person in the world – there is not an ounce of guile in her. I pity her. She obviously finds it a torture to come to Brighton and would not tolerate it but for the sake of her health. In fact, I pity you all. After all, it is a sad state of affairs to be dragged kicking and screaming to the sea-side and forced to enjoy yourselves – what greater misery could you face?’ Mr Churchman nimbly avoided a blow to the arm before apologising profusely for his levity. ‘All right, all right,’ he protested, laughing, as Lucy aimed another blow. ‘I cannot abide violence. Allow me to apologise unreservedly. After all, I cannot have you and Miss Barrington thinking ill of me and I suppose you will not wish to acknowledge an insensitive monster as your friend.’
Miss Taylor was not convinced and told him so. She was not so annoyed with him, however, that she omitted to invite him to dinner that evening. He raised his hands in despair.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I am already engaged. Perhaps another time?’
‘There – I knew I should never pin you down so soon. I never knew anyone the like for dashing about the place. If you manage to stay in Brighton the week I shall be surprised. But I cannot make any commitments for later – mama has been busily devising engagements all week and I’m not quite sure what she has planned.’
‘Well, we are bound to meet up again. And who knows – I might just surprise you. You have often told me how unpredictable I am, so now I have a reputation to keep up.’
‘I wish to know nothing of your reputation, sir,’ chided Lucy. ‘You must promise to visit us again, though. Papa, I know, will be pleased to have your company. He tends to suffer a little with only females in the house.’
‘You do yourselves an injustice – though I understand your meaning. I fear my mother has the same problem with only males in the house.’
Mr Churchman rose to leave. Lydia at last allowed herself another look at him and their eyes met for a moment before he left the room. She was acutely aware of him. She was shocked that his influence over her was greater than ever.
Lucy noticed none of her anguish as she settled down to her books.
‘Fancy you knowing the Churchmans,’ she said. ‘We have known them this age. Henry and Edward are both friends of papa, they are always meeting up in Town. I think Henry was glad to take papa’s advice when his father died. Even so, we are quite honoured to receive a visit so soon after arriving – he is always so much in demand that we rarely get a look in. I wonder how he knew that we were here. I think it unlikely that he has seen our names in the visitors’ book already.’
Lydia muttered some reply, which appeared to satisfy her companion. Then she left the room and hurried to her chamber to be left in peace with her thoughts for a while. She knew that she should not feel anything like as pleased to see him as she did. She felt sorry that he had been unable to come to dinner. She would like to have had the opportunity to apologise to him for their last disastrous meeting and find out what he knew (if anything) of her sudden flight to Netley. But then again, perhaps it would be better were she not to see too much of him. Her thoughts were troubling her. She felt excited and pleased and uncomfortable and guilty all at the same time and she wasn’t sure whether she liked it or not.
They saw nothing more of him over the next couple of days, as Lucy and Lydia busily engaged themselves in a round of sightseeing, dinners and social events. On one evening they attended the play at the Theatre Royal. The next evening they attended a musical event at the Castle Assembly Rooms (although, much to Lucy’s disgust, the billed attraction had been forced to withdraw at the last moment due to a putrid sore throat and they had to make do with a rather inferior substitute instead). What Lydia most enjoyed, however, were their walks about Brighton, exploring the lanes and byways in the older part of town. They examined the fig tree in the Ship Street gardens and listened to the band in Pavilion Parade. Somehow Lucy always managed to contrive a walk by (and into) Cowley’s bun shop and Lydia always managed to steer her towards the sparkling grey sea. It was at moments like this that Netley seemed a world and a half away.
They returned from one such outing (a shopping trip which resulted in a sizeable number of parcels for delivery with Miss Taylor’s name on them) to be confronted by an odd smell emanating from a large basket on the hallway table.
‘Whatever can this be?’ asked Miss Taylor, running up to the basket and taking a look. ‘Why, it is full of fruit – strawberries and cherries, of all things. Well! Of all the strange...it is from Mr Churchman. There is a card within: ‘The first fruits of summer, with Mr Churchman’s compliments.’ How very odd. It is most peculiar. I’d never have thought it of him....’
Lydia could hardly believe her eyes. She stared at the basket in
astonishment
. Strawberries and cherries? Had she
once
not
mentioned
her partiality for these, at Abdale? And could it be that Mr Churchman had remembered this from all those months ago, and delivered them for her here at Madeira Place? What if...? She could hardly allow herself to ask the question, but it insisted on presenting itself at the forefront of her brain. What if,
in spite
of everything, he still felt a spark of regard for her? It didn’t bear thinking about.
‘It is certainly most thoughtful of him,’ she managed to say, as Lucy still wondered. ‘Are you particularly fond of cherries and strawberries?’
‘Not in the least,’ was the bemused reply. ‘And neither is Emma – nor mama. I am quite at a loss.’
‘Well, it is a very pretty present. We must be sure to thank him for it as soon as we see him again.’
The opportunity presented itself after church that very Sunday. Lucy and Lydia had just declared their intention of taking a stroll
down
the promenade
and along
the East Cliff when Mr Churchman’s curricle pulled up alongside them.
‘Well met,’ he smiled, jumping out and throwing the reins to his tiger. It was evident that he intended to walk with them for a while. ‘I was on my way to visit you, Miss Taylor – and see – we have a much more pleasant meeting place and you have saved me a journey as well.’
Mr Churchman adeptly manoeuvred himself between them and chivalrously offered an arm to each (which they took). Lydia immediately took the opportunity of expressing her delight in the basket of fruit, exchanging a glance with him which Lucy intercepted and made her wonder whether perhaps she had missed something of significance here. Lydia was mortifyingly aware of how elegant Lucy looked, compared to herself. True, at least today she was wearing her best Sunday outfit – a chemise robe of white cambric decorated with tiny red rosebuds – but in neither cut nor style could it compete with Lucy’s spotted muslin complemented by tiny straw hat and gloves. (How chastened would ladies feel were they aware of how little such things matter to gentlemen? Indeed, it is more likely than not that Mr Churchman would have been quite unable to recall either outfit later, even if his life depended on it.) Still, at least she had the satisfaction of Mr Churchman walking at her side and she was even more delighted when he announced the reason for his trip.
‘The purpose of my call, Miss Taylor, is to invite you and Miss Barrington to an afternoon party being held by my great-aunt on Wednesday. We will be quite a small party – my aunt is no longer able to cope with crowds as she once was – but it struck me how well you
both
love the countryside and how beautiful you would find the gardens at Foxwell at this time of year...’
‘Indeed
we
would, Mr Churchman.’
‘And afterwards, if you would oblige us all with some playing on the harpsichord – you must know, Miss Barrington,’ he said, turning to Lydia, ‘that Miss Taylor is generally thought to be one of the finest instrumentalists around – I feel persuaded that if she will play for us we shall have the perfect close to the day.’
‘You are too kind, Mr Churchman. We should have accepted your invitation without resorting to such undeserved flattery.’
‘Were it not so generally held to be rude to contradict a lady I should not hesitate to do so. I am not flattering when I call your performances outstanding, Miss Taylor.’
‘Ha, Mr Churchman – you are on your best behaviour today, I see. You are not normally so nice as to avoid contradicting me. You are trying to impress Miss Barrington, I suppose. You may as well save your breath. She is not to be so easily impressed as that.’
Henry looked at Lydia, smiling.
‘You see what liberties this wretch takes with me?’ he asked. ‘She has been the same ever since she wore short skirts. I have spoken to her papa a hundred times that she must learn to respect her elders a little but it does me no good. Her papa is as powerless as the rest of us to make her behave. Having said that, though, I am rather pleased to hear that you are difficult to impress. It would make the achievement so much more worthwhile.’
Lydia became aware of a jelly-like feeling in her legs. It was fortunate that she still retained her hold on Mr Churchman’s right arm.
‘I am the child of my father, sir. He was a stickler for things to be just so and he brought me up to be critical of imperfection.’
‘I see I must watch my step then, Miss Barrington. I can tell, even now, that you are judging me harshly.’
Lydia did not know where to look. She knew only that her heart was thumping uncontrollably.
‘Perhaps,’ was all she could manage. She eyed a lazy seagull as it glided effortlessly overhead. ‘But I hope you will not be harsh with me.’
‘I shall be harsh with Miss Taylor if she does not promise to play for us on Wednesday. Though she has been so good as to accept my hospitality she has not yet promised to do anything in return. I suppose I shall have to devise some punishment for her if she will not cooperate, which is a shame, for I am not the punishing kind...’
After a little further harrying of this nature the promise was duly given. Mr Churchman then directed his attention towards Lydia
again
.
‘I can see that Brighton suits you, Miss Barrington,’ he began. ‘I expect you find it a little more diverting than a quiet life in Surrey.’