The Landower Legacy (3 page)

We agreed that it was.

“Shall we see the Queen?” asked Olivia.

“Of course, my dear. What sort of Jubilee would it be without her?”

We were caught up in the excitement.

“Your father,” said Miss Bell, “will have his duties on such a day. He will be at Court, of course?”

“Will he ride with the Queen?” asked Olivia.

I burst out laughing. “Even he is not important enough for that,” I said scornfully.

In the morning when we were at lessons with Miss Bell, my parents came up to the schoolroom. This was so unexpected that we were
all dumbfounded—even Miss Bell, who rose to her feet, flushing slightly, murmuring: “Good morning, Sir. Good morning, Madam.”

Olivia and I had risen to our feet too and stood like statues, wondering what this visit meant.

Our father looked as though
he
were asking himself how such a magnificent person as he was could possibly have sired such offspring. There was a blot on my bodice. I always got carried away when writing and made myself untidy in the process. I felt my head jerk up. I expected I had put on my defiant look, which I invariably did, so Miss Bell said, when I was expecting criticism. I glanced at Olivia. She was pale and clearly nervous.

I felt a little angry. One person had no right to have that effect on others. I promised myself I would not allow him to frighten me.

He said: “Well, are you dumb?”

“Good morning, Papa,” we said in unison. “Good morning, Mama.”

My mother laughed lightly. “I shall take them to see the procession myself.”

He nodded. I think that meant approval.

My mother went on: “Both Clare Ponsonby and Delia Sanson have invited us. The procession will pass their doors and there will be an excellent view from their windows.”

“Indeed yes.” He looked at Miss Bell. Like myself, she was determined not to show how nervous he made her. She was, after all, a vicar’s daughter, and vicar’s families were always so respectable that daughters of such households were readily preferred by employers; she was also a lady of some spirit and she was not going to be cowed before her pupils.

“And what do you think of your pupils, eh, Miss Bell?”

“They are progressing very well,” said Miss Bell.

My mother said, again with that little laugh: “Miss Bell tells me that the girls are clever … in their different ways.”

“H’m.” He looked at Miss Bell quizzically, and it occurred to me that not to show fear was the way to behave in his presence. Most people showed it and then he became more and more godlike. I admired Miss Bell.

“I hope you have thanked God for the Queen’s preservation,” he said, looking at Olivia.

“Oh yes, Papa,” I said fervently.

“We must all be grateful to God for giving us such a lady to rule over us.”

Ah, I thought. She is the Queen, though a woman. Nobody took the crown from her because she was a woman, so Cousin Mary has every right to Tressidor Manor. Thoughts like that always came into my mind at odd moments.

“We are, Papa,” I said, “to have such a great
lady
to rule over us.”

He glared at Olivia, who looked very frightened. “And what of you? What do you say?”

“Why … yes … yes … Papa,” stammered Olivia.

“We are all very grateful,” said my mother, “and we shall have a wonderful time together at the Ponsonbys’ or Sansons’ … We shall cheer Her Majesty until we are hoarse, shall we not, my dears?”

“I think it would be better if you watched in respectful silence,” said my father.

“But of course, Robert,” said my mother. She went to him and slipped her arm through his. I was amazed at such temerity but he did not seem to mind. In fact he seemed to find the contact rather pleasing.

“Come along,” she said, no doubt seeing how eager we were for the interview to end and growing a little tired of it herself. “The girls will behave beautifully and be a credit to us, won’t you, girls?”

“Oh yes, Mama.”

She smiled at him and his lips turned up at the corners, as though he could not help smiling back although he was trying hard not to.

When the door shut on them we all heaved a sigh of relief.

“Why did he come?” I asked, as usual speaking without thinking.

“Your father feels he should pay a visit to the schoolroom occasionally,” said Miss Bell. “It is a parent’s duty and your father would always do his duty.”

“I’m glad our mother came with him. That made him a little less stern I think.”

Miss Bell was silent.

Then she opened a book. “Let us see what William the Conqueror is doing now. We left him, remember, planning the conquest of these islands.”

And as we read our books I was thinking of my parents, wondering about them. Why did my mother, who loved to laugh, marry my father, who clearly did not? Why could she make him look different merely by slipping her arm through his? Why had she come to the schoolroom to
tell us we were going to see the procession, either from the Ponsonbys’ or the Sansons’, when we knew already?

Secrets! Adults had many of them. It would be interesting to know what they really meant, for when they said one thing, they very often meant something else.

I felt the locket against my skin.

Well, I too had my secrets.

As the great day approached the excitement intensified. No one seemed to speak of anything but the Jubilee. The day before there was to be a dinner party and that meant in addition to Jubilee Fever there was the bustle such an occasion always demanded.

In the morning Miss Bell took us for our usual morning walk. The streets near the square, usually so sedate, were filling with traders selling Jubilee favours.

“Buy a mug for the little ladies,” they pleaded. “Come on. Show respec’ for ‘er Gracious Majesty.”

Miss Bell hurried us past and said we would go into the Park.

We walked along by the Serpentine while she told us about the Great Exhibition which had been set up largely under the auspices of the Prince Consort, that much lamented husband of our dear Queen. We had heard it all before and I was much more interested in watching the ducks. We had brought nothing to feed them with. Mrs. Terras, the cook, usually supplied us with stale bread, but on this morning, because of the coming dinner party, she was too busy to be bothered with us.

We sat down by the water, and Miss Bell, always intent on improving our minds, turned the subject to the Queen’s coming to the throne fifty glorious years before, and she went over the oft-repeated tale of our dear Queen’s rising from her bed, wrapped in her dressing gown, her long fair hair loose about her shoulders, to be told she was the Queen.

“We must remember what the dear Queen said—young as she was and wise … oh so wise even then. She said: ‘I will be good.’ There! Who would have believed a young girl could have shown such wisdom? And not much older than you, Olivia. Imagine. Who else could have made such a vow?”

“Olivia would,” I said. “She always wants to be good.”

It occurred to me then that good people were not always wise, and I couldn’t help pointing out that the two qualities did not always go hand in hand.

Miss Bell looked faintly exasperated and said: “You must learn to
accept the conclusions of those older and wiser than yourself, Caroline.”

“But if one never questions anything, how can one find new answers?” I asked.

“Why seek a new answer, when you have one already?”

“Because there might be another,” I insisted.

“I think we should now be returning,” said Miss Bell.

How often, I ruminated, were conversations brought to such abrupt terminations.

I did not care. Like everyone else, I was thinking about tomorrow.

From our bedroom we could see the carriages arriving with all the guests and on such a night as this the square seemed full of them. I supposed we were not the only ones who were giving a dinner party.

It was about eight o’clock. We were supposed to be in bed, for we must be fresh for the morning when we would be leaving the house early so that we should be in our places before the streets were closed to traffic. The carriage was to take us to the Ponsonbys’ or the Sansons’— we had not been told which invitation had been accepted. As we were going with our mother, Miss Bell would have to take her chance in the streets and she was accompanying Everton to some vantage point. The servants had made their arrangements. Rosie was going by herself.

“Alone?” I asked and she looked at me and gave me a little push.

“Ask no questions and you’ll hear no lies,” she said.

I think Papa would be at some function. All I cared about was that he should not be with us. He would have cast a decided gloom over the day.

Having seen the carriages arrive, I went with Olivia to our nook by the banisters and watched the guests received.

Our mother was sparkling in a dress trimmed with pink beads and pearls. She wore a little band of diamonds in her hair and looked exquisite. Papa stood beside her, and in his black clothes and frilled shirt he looked magnificent.

We could hear their voices and catch the occasional comment.

“How good of you to come.”

“It is such a pleasure to see you.”

“What a wonderful prelude to the great day.”

And so it went on.

Then my heart leaped with pleasure, for approaching my parents was Captain Carmichael.

So he was back in London as he had said he would be. He looked
very handsome, although he was not in uniform. He was as tall as my father and as impressive in his way as my father was in his—only whereas my father cast gloom he brought merriment.

He had passed on and the next guest was received.

I felt bemused. I dared not wear my locket for I was in my night attire and it would be seen. It lay under my pillow. It was safe there, but I should have liked to be wearing it at that moment.

When the guests had all been received I just wanted to sit there.

“I’m going back to bed,” said Olivia.

I nodded and she crept away, but I still sat on, hoping that Captain Carmichael would come out and I should get another glimpse of him.

I listened to the sounds of conversation. Soon they would go down to the dining room which was on the ground floor.

Then my mother came out with Captain Carmichael. They were talking very quietly and soon were joined by a man and woman. The stood for a while talking—about the Jubilee, of course.

I caught scraps of the conversation.

“They say she refused to wear a crown.”

“It’s to be a bonnet.”

“A bonnet! Fancy!”

“Hush! Lese-majesty.”

“But it’s true. Halifax has told her that the people want a gilding for their money and Rosebery says an Empire should be ruled by a sceptre not a bonnet.”

“Will it really be a bonnet? I don’t believe it.”

“Oh yes, the order has gone out. Bonnets and long high dresses without mantle.”

“It will not be much like a royal occasion.”

“My dear, where she is there could be nothing but a royal occasion.”

Captain Carmichael said, and he had a very clear voice which was audible right to the top of the house, “It’s true, I hope, that she had insisted on modifying the Prince Consort’s rules about divorcees.”

“Yes. Incredible, is it not? She wishes the poor ladies who are innocent parties to divorce to be admitted to the celebrations.”

My father had come out a few seconds before.

“Reasonable, of course,” said the Captain. “Why should they be penalized for what is not their fault?”

“Immorality
should
be penalized,” said my father.

“My dear Tressidor,” retorted the Captain, “innocent parties are not guilty. How otherwise could they be innocent?”

“The Prince Consort was right,” insisted my father. “He excluded
all
who were involved in these sordid affairs, and I am glad to say that Salisbury has put his foot down about inviting foreign divorcees.”

“There has to be some human feeling surely,” went on the Captain.

My father said in a very cold voice: “There are principles involved.”

And my mother cut in: “Let us go to dinner, shall we? Why do we stand about here?”

She was clearly changing the subject and as they started downstairs someone said to her, “I hear you will be at the Ponsonbys’.”

“I was kindly asked by Marcia Sanson. My little girls are so looking forward to it.”

The voices faded away.

I sat there for some time thinking: I believe that Captain Carmichael and my father do not like each other very much.

Then I crept into bed, felt my locket safe beneath the pillow and went to sleep.

We were up early next morning and Miss Bell was very careful with our toilettes. She had long pondered, going through our moderate wardrobes deciding on what garments would best do justice to our mother; she picked bottle green for me and crushed strawberry for Olivia. Our dresses were both made on the same lines with flounced skirts, decorous bodices and sleeves to the elbow. We wore long white stockings and black boots, and carried white gloves, and each of us had a straw hat, mine bearing a green ribbon and Olivia’s crushed strawberry.