Enchanted Summer: (Regency Romance) (14 page)

How had she come to this information? Celia now realized she only half listened when Bella spoke of the Longards and of Jack. Had she just assumed Jack had a substantial living?

“But Jack seems attracted to Bella and I have seen no evidence of this so-called attachment to Caroline,” Celia insisted, unable to accept what Henrietta told her as fact. And besides, he dresses in a manner that he would not afford if what you say is true. He has even spoken of obtaining a military commission from another of his relatives.

“Perhaps this information has reached you in a distorted way, Henrietta. After all, you do not know either Jack or Caroline personally.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” said Henrietta. “It may all be as you say, and Jack’s attachment to Caroline long faded. And as for his character, you certainly had a better opportunity to judge his character in person first hand, while the information I reveal is, as you say, second-hand. How did you view his character?”

“Why in the best possible light! He seemed to dote on Bella, and was at her side even against the wishes of his relatives, who were intent on separating them.”

“Think nothing then of what I’ve told you,” Henrietta said quickly, alarmed that her words had upset her friend. “You have always been a better judge of character. I had no idea that Jack had any connection to your sister or I would have measured my words with more care.”

And eager to dispel the cloud her words had left on the afternoon, Henrietta spoke of other things, in particular the fact that Professor Welsh had been asked to tea the following day.

The post came in and Henrietta left Celia to her letters from home and went to tend to her mother, who had expressed a wish to have tea in her room, as she was not feeling well.

Celia read her mother’s letter and after putting it down for a second and third reading later on, picked up Bella’s letter and in so doing she noticed that underneath it was a small card envelope. She turned it over and saw the seal and the family shield immediately. It was from Sir Hugh!”

Dearest Miss Meade,

Thank you for letting me know you are in the neighborhood and anxious to call at Farley Hall. I must inform you though, that I am not in the health necessary for receiving callers. However, as I have found some papers belonging to your grandfather and believe your honorable mother should have them, I have made an exception. I can only see you for a few minutes and hope you will understand the aforementioned reasons. I will be home on the morning of the seventeenth at ten thirty a.m.

Your respectful cousin, etc.

The seventeenth was two days away!

Celia read the note a second and a third time and then sat back in wonder. Well! Now that the visit had crystallized into reality she could hardly believe it. Henrietta had gone out early on an errand and now Celia was anxious for her to return so that she could share with her the momentous news. So the baronet Sir Hugh did exist, thought Celia.

As a child, she had heard so much of Sir Hugh and never set eyes on him that he indeed had the air of legend about him. He sounded very normal, though, and very unlike a legend should sound.

Celia laughed out loud. His letter was as normal as could be and rather stuffy, although not unlike the manner of writing of a many gentlemen his age.

Celia was very interested in the papers Sir Hugh was to deliver to her, papers belonging to her grandfather and that no doubt her mother would love to have in her possession.

She was anxious for the day to come, which was only two days away. She decided not to inform her mother of Sir Hugh’s note until after she had visited him.

When Henrietta returned from her mother’s bedroom, Celia called to her that she had some amazing news and Henrietta rushed to her and when Celia showed her Sir Hugh’s card she beamed and exclaimed in wonder.

“So he does exist! Celia, I can’t wait for the day to come. I shall die of suspense until you return from Farley Hall. You will be very observant and take mental notes so that you can describe everything in detail for me? How I wish I could accompany you!”

“Well, and why don’t you?”

“Could I? Would not Sir Hugh object?”

“He would have no opportunity to object since we would not warn him. Besides, you have as much right to it as I, having been forced to listen to endless talk about our revered relation.” 

Mrs. Meade’s love/hate relationship with Sir Hugh, on whom she herself had never laid eyes had been suffered by everyone who called them at Spitalfields.

“What shall we wear?” asked Henrietta.

“We’ll plan it carefully.” Said Celia, “I’m certain it will be our only visit to Farley Hall.”

“I am as anxious as if I had been invited to be presented at court!” Henrietta added.

That afternoon and evening the girls talked of little else.

The visit to Farley Hall kept them busy and in high spirits and their evenings were always filled by Liddell and Jeoffrey who never failed to call.

And since they had been told of the invitation to Farley Hall, the young men joined them in endless speculation as to the size of the estate, the appearance of Sir Hugh and the reception they would be likely to expect. For though the distance from the lodge to Farley Hall was only twenty miles, they could find no one who had been inside the estate.

Liddell’s respect for Celia increased on learning she was related to a baronet and he doubled his efforts at winning her heart. The old gentleman was eccentric and not fond of visits from relatives, from what he could gather from the lively conversation, but he was still a baronet.

“Perhaps you should have made an effort to contact him sooner than now, Miss Meade,” said Liddell.

Celia and Henrietta looked at each other and burst out laughing so that Liddell’s face turned beet red, almost as red as his hair.

“Dear Liddell,” said Henrietta, hardly containing her mirth. “Our Cousin, Sir Hugh, is uncommonly shy about visits.”

“He could hardly have turned you from the door,” said the young man, a little peeved that he had been the cause of their amusement.

“The only reason he has agreed to a visit now is because he has some papers from grandfather he wants me to deliver to Mama,” said Celia.

CHAPTER 16

Finally, the morning of the 17
th
rolled around. There was a sharp breeze and the girls had bundled up with care, for it was a drive of two hours, at least. They had taken great care with their appearance, although assuring each other that Sir Hugh would not take the slightest notice of their appearance.

Milton had the carriage ready and they set out in great anticipation and curiosity. Questions churned in Celia’s mind as well as Henrietta’s. How large was the hall? Was it as sumptuous as the mind of Mrs. Meade recollected, or had the years added a patina of elegance to an otherwise common establishment?

These questions and more occupied the girls’ minds as they endured a journey that must stretch out insupportably as time stretches out on such occasions. That their curiosity was soon to be assuaged made them even tenser with anticipation.

Milton rounded a curb and they came upon a small gatekeeper cottage that was now boarded up. The grass around it was overgrown while gorse bushes crowded on the stone walls and completely overran the small path that led to it. The girls stretched their necks out to a first view of the estate and on seeing the dilapidated state of the gatehouse fell back inside and shook their heads at each other.

As they went through gateless pillars they could see that money was not one of Sir Hugh’s commodities.

The ride from the gate to the house took a few minutes as they went through a bit of wood that must be thick and dark in the summer but that was now filled with the leafless branches of trees.

They came upon the hall as it sat beneath the pearly light of the winter morning. The building was shaped like a bracket and within the arms of the bracket a large stone fountain filled with sod and dry leaves stood majestically in a rotunda of flagstones of fifteen or twenty steps. Celia leaned out the carriage window and drew in her breath at sight of the house. Not only was Farley Hall very large, it was also very beautiful.

It stood there with an air of dignity in adversity, its row of marble columns majestic and aloof. Its fortune may have been squandered by others but this proud old building would never go begging. Not even relentless time had scarred its pink-gray stone facade.

Celia sighed and felt a stirring of pride at her family’s ancestral home. Even without shaved and formal gardens and with layers of grime on its stones, it surpassed the upstart house at Rook’s End by a wide margin. In fact, it could hold its own with a great many noble halls in England.

“I confess I did not expect to be so impressed,” said Henrietta.

“I did not expect it either,” said Celia.

Milton came around the drive to the front door and climbed the steps that were crescent shaped and banged the huge door-knocker several times. A few minutes passed while the girls held their breaths.

Finally, a large woman with a moon-shaped face that looked too large for her body pulled back the heavy door. She and Sheldon exchanged a few words and then Sheldon came back to assist the girls into the house.

When they were inside a large octagon-shaped hall they both glanced up at the impressive stairs that rose left and right as arms leading to the gallery that circled above the hall.

Milton was directed to the kitchen by the housekeeper, after she had introduced herself as Amelia Botts.

Mrs. Botts called out to her daughter Amy, who had a similarly-shaped face as hers and was almost as large and plump.

Milton left in the wake of the young Amy and Mrs. Botts turned to the girls.

“Sir Hugh will see you in the library, Misses. I’ll go tell him yer here.” After leading them into the library, Mrs. Botts left, closing the door behind her.

Celia glanced around. She had admired the hall when she and Henrietta entered the house, which had beautiful stained glass windows in each of the sides of the octagon, giving it an original and very pleasing look. She now ran her eyes over rows of dusty books and at the rich panel on the walls that did not hold books.

There was a large chimney and it was set ready for burning, with logs and kindling. Celia shivered and was glad when Mrs. Botts came back and started the fire. She bustled about and when she had the flames going she turned to the girls,

“Sir Hugh comes to this room about this hour.” It was obvious to Celia that wood and candles were precious commodities in the household.

“I understand you’re relations?” asked Mrs. Botts.

“
I
am.” Celia did not provide any further information.

“Not many relatives come this way,” said Mrs. Botts, more to herself than to Celia. “The old gentleman only has the one grand-son for family and he is away. A pity you won’t get to see ‘im.”

“Yes.”

“Did you come from far?”

“Not very much—it took us only about two hours,” Celia replied.

Celia saw that Mrs. Botts warmed as the fire did; from cold she had gone on to a bit warmer just as the fire began to catch, and now she seemed anxious to chat with them until Sir Hugh made his appearance. The girls warmed themselves by the incipient fire as the housekeeper continued to chat with them.

“A wonder you haven’t called before, Miss Meade,” said Mrs. Botts, with growing familiarity, “living close by as you do.”

“I’m not from these parts,” answered Celia, with a glance at Henrietta, “I’m staying with friends only for a few weeks.”

“Oh.” Well, the old gentleman is not in the way of receiving callers anyway,” said Mrs. Botts. “He never stirs from the house. His health is not as one would want it—nay, not in the last ten years has he been even close to the gate.”

There’s no gate, thought Celia, and only said: “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I don’t suppose he’ll hold out long,” said Mrs. Botts, in a tone of voice Celia felt Sir Hugh would not doubt resent. “And then it will be young Master Hugh I’ll take my orders from.”

“Is Sir Hugh’s grandson heir expected soon?”

“Well, he should be coming back soon,” Mrs. Botts turned to them. “I’m sure he will be sorry to have missed you. Perhaps you can come again?” she asked hopefully.

“I am afraid that would be up to Sir Hugh,” said Celia, “for as you say, he is not in good health.”

“Yes, Miss, yer right. But then, the visit would be mostly to meet the young sir, would it not?”

“How old is young Hugh?”

“He is but six and twenty, Miss, and engaged to be married.”

“Oh.”

“And what will he support her with, I wonder?” went on Mrs. Botts, without any inducement. “Just another mouth to feed.”  The housekeeper’s voice was full of resentment. “I’ve heard say her dowry is small,” she added, then leaning toward Celia she said in a low voice: “And young Hugh, Miss, is not what you would call the enterprising kind. He should be at the farm, seeing to it that it’s worked properly, instead, he spends his time carousin’ in London when he’s needed here.”

At that moment Sir Hugh entered the room.

“Ah, sir, and here are the young misses warming themselves by the fire.”

A frail old gentleman with a stooped back walked slowly into the room and with a nod of acknowledgement to each of the girls went to a wing chair by the fire. Without a word, Mrs. Botts went to a side chair on which a heavy blanket in tartan plaid was folded and brought it back to where Sir Hugh sat.

She unfolded it and carefully arranged it over Sir Hugh’s legs. The girls were silent while this was done. Mrs. Botts then went to a table by the window and brought back a stack of papers and a long, leather bound book and placed them on a tea table that was beside Sir Hugh’s chair. She then motioned for Celia and Henrietta to sit on opposite chairs from Sir Hugh.

“Have the tea brought in now, Mrs. Botts,” said Sir Hugh and Mrs. Botts left them to go fetch the tea.

“I have here,” said Sir Hugh without any kind of greeting, “a few items your mother will want to keep.”

“Yes, thank you, sir,” said Celia. Celia sat at the edge of her chair, fascinated by Sir Hugh’s appearance.

She had vaguely formed in her mind, from countless years of speculation about him, the image of a tall, prepossessing man of fearful appearance. She found instead that reality was very different. Sir Hugh was a frail old man with side-whiskers that swung from the sides of his face in semi-circles, ending in a bushy white mustache.

Sir Hugh’s eyebrows were also abundant and little could be seen of his face, which was thin and deeply ridged. But in his eyes was still a strong glimmer that bespoke of strong character, a character that had been needed to hold on to this lovely old house.

He motioned for Celia to pick up the pile of papers and the book. When she had done so he said, “The book seems to be a personal diary. The key is attached to it with the string. I have not looked into it because I supposed what was written in it to be private.”

“Thank you, Sir Hugh,” said Celia, “I appreciate very much your allowing us to visit, and of your kindness in delivering these things to my mother. Mama has a strong sense of family and she will be very happy to have these papers of her father.”

Mrs. Botts came in with the tea and proceeded to serve Sir Hugh with his cup. He held it with his hands around it, no doubt to warm his long, thin fingers.

The tea was strong and the pastries hot and well baked. There was strawberry and apricot jam as well as honey for the scones that were overflowing a basket. Sir Hugh ate slowly and very little of the pastries before him and sipped his tea carefully, his long bony fingers grasping his teacup as though he was afraid it would fall from his hand.

“You will please tell your mother that I have appreciated her many letters throughout the years. I have never been a correspondent myself, though. I hope she will forgive me.”

“Yes,” said Celia, “I am certain she will be happy to hear you appreciated her letters, sir.”

He sipped his tea thoughtfully and then said,

“My grandson, Hugh is away. He will be sorry to have missed you.”

“I’m sorry to have missed him, also,” said Celia.

Mrs. Botts, who hovered nearby behind Sir Hugh shook his head at the mention of Sir Hugh’s grandson, as if she doubted the grandson would be sorry to have missed them. She seemed to be waiting for a signal from Sir Hugh, which he finally gave.

“You will excuse me for making this visit short,” said Sir Hugh after he had sipped the last of his tea.

“Yes, of course,” said Celia, rising.

“Mrs. Botts will show you the house if you are so disposed.”

“Yes, thank you, Sir Hugh.”

“Please give my best regards to your mother.” Sir Hugh’s voice had become thin, almost a whisper.

The girls followed the housekeeper out of the library, leaving Sir Hugh gazing silently at the flames.

“I’m sorry it was such a short visit,” Mrs. Botts said when she had closed the door of the library, “but as you saw for yourselves, the old gentleman is not…”

“I understand.”

“It isn’t often I can show the place,” said Mrs. Botts as she led the girls up the wide, circular stairs and around the gallery, which was bare of paintings. The view from the gallery was stunning, as though, thought Celia, one looked into a kaleidoscope. The octagonal hall with its long, stained glass windows were in a myriad of colors.

“It’s a beautiful place.”

“Yes it is,” agreed Mrs. Botts, and added, “I have lived in it more years than out and so have become quite attached to it. Amy was born here.”

“You came in when Sir Hugh came into possession of it?”

“I was with him long before that, when he got married. I was about fifteen years younger than him, barely ten. My mother worked for him and he brought both me and my mother with him.”

One after another they went through the rooms; up and down corridors lit by only a single sconce that Mrs. Botts carefully turned on and then off when they had left it. Economy had become second nature in the house and Celia noticed that most of the rooms were not furnished. No doubt furniture and paintings had long ago been sold to pay bills. There was a parapet around the roof which when they walked around it gave them the feeling of being in a castle.

Mrs. Botts lingered with them and did not hurry them in the least. It was obvious she was enjoying the break from her work just as much as they were enjoying their tour.

“Were balls held here when you first came with Sir Hugh and his wife?” asked Henrietta when they were examining the vast ballroom that had layers of dust on the parquet floor and leaves that had pushed through a loose shutter.

Mrs. Botts went to secure the shutter but hardly glanced at the piles of leaves. It seemed to Celia that she was much used to the state of things and managed to keep it from bothering her. Celia did not blame her. She and Amy could not do the housework of such an enormous house by themselves. They did too much as it was.

“Sir Hugh married late in life, and though his lady was fairly young there was the scarcity of money to deal with even back then. It was all Sir Hugh could do to keep the place standing. Most of the extra money must go to the farm hands or there would be no income to keep the house. That’s why only Amy and me take care of the huge house. There’s only a gardener that also fixes things when they break down. Sir Hugh’s biggest concern has always been to keep the place going and I have to tell you that he gets no help from that useless grandson of his. A pity that it will be him taking over when the old man dies, for he has little interest in the house or the farm. He prefers to be out in London or Bath with this friends.”