Lady Catherine's Necklace (7 page)

Welcoming the change of subject from the Duchess of Anglesea's grounds to her own, Lady Catherine was prepared to listen.

‘
All
the views from Rosings are unequalled,' she pronounced. ‘But what is it that you have in mind, sir?'

‘Oh, madam, you are quite right, they are indeed unequalled, but it seemed to us very unfortunate that from the knot-garden – and, in fact, from the southerly windows on the first and second floors of this house – that scrubby little cottage and shed intrude so wretchedly upon the scene. Without them, or perhaps with some pleasing grotto or classic temple erected to replace them—'

‘Humph,' said her ladyship, considering, ‘there may be something in what you say.'

She did not observe the appalled expression on the countenance of her daughter Anne.

‘Something quite plain – Doric columns, or perhaps a replica of the Parthenon?'

‘Is the cottage occupied?' inquired Miss Delaval. ‘Will it be necessary to rehouse the occupants if the building is pulled down?'

‘The cottage is rented. In such an eventuality the tenants must find themselves other accommodation. That would be their affair. I am under no obligation—'

‘But Mamma,' ventured Anne in a very small voice, ‘Mr Mynges and Mr Finglow live there. They were Papa's friends.'

‘My dear, do not put yourself forward in matters which are no concern of yours,' said Lady Catherine sharply. ‘It is most unbecoming.'

Anne fell silent. Miss Delaval gave her a slight, sympathetic smile, raising her brows as if to say, I perfectly comprehend your feelings, but what can I do?

She has freckles on her nose, thought Anne de Bourgh. Her skin is smooth but thick, like the pith of an orange. It is not so fine as my skin, or that of Maria Lucas, who has a very delicate, clear complexion, though somewhat pale. I do not trust Miss Delaval. She reminds me of the cat Alice…

IV

At this season Anne de Bourgh frequently rose before six, comfortably conscious that nobody else in the mansion who might be likely to pursue her with reprimands and prohibitions would be stirring for some time yet.

Her first objective was a cherry orchard, which lay to the east of the vegetable gardens. In early morning the rays of the sun rising over Hunsford Hill caught the white blossom here and turned it to a spectacular dazzle.

‘Merrily, merrily, shall I live now, Under the blossom that hangs on the bough,' Anne murmured to herself, staring up at the snowy canopy. ‘Oh,
how
I should like to have a cherry orchard of my very own.'

‘But all this'll be yourn one day, will'n it, missie?' said Joss the garden-boy, coming up beside her with a trug full of turnips, his black-and-white mongrel dog Pluto following behind.

‘Yes,' sighed Anne, ‘but by then I shall be married to my cousin FitzWilliam. And I heard him yesterday agreeing with the Delavals that this orchard should be cut down because the trees are old, too big; picking the fruit takes too much labour, and in any case the orchard cuts off the view of the lake from the library windows. I do not imagine that
I
shall have any say in the matter.'

‘That do seem wholly unfair,' remarked Joss, ‘when 'tis through you that the orchard come to be his'n. But there! Things hardly ever
is
fair.' He whistled a few bars of ‘Cherry Ripe', and added inconsequentially, ‘My mam used to make wondrous good dried cherries. 'Twas a receipt she told me she had from Mrs Godwin the parson's lady.'

‘The one before Mrs Collins,' said Anne. ‘She died when I was a baby. I never tasted her dried cherries. I'll ask Mrs Collins if she still has the receipt; I believe that when the Collinses moved into the parsonage, they found a number of old books that had belonged to the Godwins. There may be a receipt book among them.'

‘I'd best get on,' Joss remarked, ‘or Cook'll have my tripes for pot-holders.' Noticing Anne's downcast expression, he added, ‘Come, you, missie, and see my Pluto take his morning dip. That always rouse your sperrits.'

Between the cherry orchard and the knot-garden lay a small walled courtyard enclosing a fountain. This consisted of a bowl, raised on a pedestal about four feet above the flagged pavement, with a series of smaller basins above, each less in circumference than the one below, topped by a spout of water thrown upwards to fall back from basin to basin. The bottom one, somewhat larger than a hip bath, was greatly favoured by Pluto, who now sprang up into it, rolled himself luxuriously under the sheets of water that fell from above, then jumped down to the ground and shook himself with vigour. Anne laughed, as she always did, at this enjoyable scene, while keeping herself safely distant from the flying drops of spray.

‘Again, Joss! Make him do it again!'

Joss whistled between his teeth, but Pluto needed no urging and repeated the procedure with enthusiasm.

‘Come on now, boy, or us'll be in trouble,' ssaid Joss, and strode off whistling.

Ralph Delaval, returning from an early-morning excursion to the village of Hunsford, thought what a startling improvement laughter made to Anne de Bourgh's looks.

‘Good morning!' he greeted her. ‘Have you, like myself, been calculating what a fine crop of cherries there will be? We must persuade Lady de Bourgh to postpone the execution of the orchard until the crop has been gathered in.' He noticed how her expression at once fell back into its habitual look of sour withdrawal.

‘It is no use wasting your civilities on Anne de Bourgh,' his sister Priscilla had said to him. ‘She is betrothed to her cousin and resigned to it.'

‘You could put out your best arts and entice him from her,' suggested Ralph.

‘He has no money,' Priscilla's tone was sad but resigned. ‘If I were ten years younger I could break my heart over him as I see Maria Lucas doing, but unless some windfall comes his way – that aunt in the Scillies – no, no, I am past the age for such follies. I
think!
Now: if Anne were to die, after he married her; if he were to become a wealthy widower—'

‘Come, come, my love!' her brother said, laughing. ‘Enough of such morbid imaginings! We must address ourselves to the task in hand…'

‘I know, I know! We might do better in London. If you, dear brother, had not lost such a large sum at Garthover Chase—'

‘It was unfortunate,' he said, shrugging. ‘How was I to know that Carrick would be there also? I had to give him his revenge.'

‘I am so glad that I am not a man, subject to such a ridiculous code of honour. And how fortunate it is that neither Lord Luke nor FitzWilliam are card-minded.'

‘Fortunate indeed, since neither can afford to lose. But a few games of whist would pass the time until madam comes to a decision.'

‘You are certain that she will do so?'

‘Oh, yes,' he said with casual confidence.

Now, looking at Anne de Bourgh with the same instant judgement, he saw there was no possibility of cajoling or ingratiating himself into her favour; so he bowed, raised his hat and made for the glasshouses, where he would be fairly sure of encountering Smirke.

Anne walked in the other direction, towards the lake.

*   *   *

Down at the parsonage, Maria had been providing her usual musical accompaniment for the breakfast of her twin nephews.

‘How quiet the house seems when they are both asleep,' she remarked at the end of this ceremony when the infants, replete, were fathoms deep in slumber, each in his own osier basket.

‘I miss Sam and Lucy,' Charlotte said. ‘I think I shall send for them tomorrow. The house is too quiet without children's voices. It must have been sad indeed in the time of the Godwins.'

‘Had they no children?'

‘No, she died in childbirth, poor thing. And the child died too, I believe, not immediately but later, during the typhus epidemic. So Mr Godwin became a disconsolate widower and was happy to move to Canterbury when he was offered a stall. Lady Catherine and he, you know, did not always see eye to eye; he did not take such pains, as Mr Collins does, to see matters from her point of view at all times.'

‘And his wife, Mrs Godwin? What sort of person was she?'

‘Much younger than her husband. Very young and pretty. So I hear from Mrs Hurst, and people in the village. She was a great walker, and knew a deal about birds and flowers and where rare orchids were to be found. Lady Catherine, I believe, did not wholly approve of her, and said that it was a judgement on her, for all her gadding about the woods and meadows, that she died in childbed. But she was quite a favourite with Sir Lewis, I understand; he too was interested in hellebores and monkey orchids, which it seems are to be found in abundance in these parts. Among the Godwins' books I found a little manual of orchids that he had given her.'

‘Perhaps they went botanizing together.'

‘Oh, I do not think Lady Catherine would have approved of that.'

‘I wonder if he can have been a sensible man? I cannot imagine that a sensible man would have married Lady Catherine.'

‘She may have been different when she was younger,' Charlotte said hesitantly. ‘Perhaps their families obliged them to marry, like—' she stopped.

‘And he was
very
rich – and handsome too,' Maria went on. ‘Where did his money come from?'

‘From the manufacture of some garment, I believe.'

‘So she determined to snabble him. And then she could pull down the ruins of Hunsford Castle and build herself a fine modern mansion.'

‘While he consoled himself with orchids and the vicar's lady.'

‘We should not say such things, even in jest.'

The doorbell rang, and after a moment or two Mrs Denny came in with a note for Mrs Collins.

‘It is from Lady Catherine,' Charlotte said, reading it. ‘She asks if I can spare you for the evening, tonight, when she is expecting the Dale-Rothburns to dinner, and Sir Marmaduke Towers with his lady.'

‘I am to
dine
with them?' Maria was hardly less appalled than startled.

‘Oh
no,
my dear! I am surprised that you should even think of such a thing. No, no, you are to go in afterwards, when they are taking tea, to play and sing for them.'

‘Oh, how terrible!' Maria turned pale. ‘Charlotte, must I?'

‘I think you must, love. Lady Catherine would be very displeased if you declined – and I do not like to
think
how upset Mr Collins would be.'

‘But Colonel FitzWilliam will be there – and the Delavals. I shall feel like a juggler; like some sort of paid entertainer!'

‘Except that you will not be paid,' said Charlotte drily.

‘It is so demeaning!'

‘You have played many times for our father's club, at Lucas Lodge.'

‘Yes, but that was for Papa – quite different.'

‘I am very sorry for you. But you are well endowed with spirit and dignity. Your courage will carry you through, when it comes to the point.'

‘Now you are trying to talk me round, Charlotte. Oh, very well! You may write Lady Catherine my polite acceptance. I shall be most happy. That will not be the truth. I shall hate it and be miserable, every minute that I am there. How can I play the songs that I used to sing for
him,
last summer? Oh, Charlotte, it must mean
something
when two people have so many ideas, so many tastes and feelings in common, must it not?'

‘You still love him,' said Charlotte sadly.

‘Oh, Charlotte, I do, I do!'

‘Well, you must battle against it!' scolded Charlotte. ‘That is all we
can
do, you know. And we women are lucky in that respect, unbelievably lucky, that we do have so many useful and agreeable tasks in the performance of which we can divert our minds from such fruitless pains as beset us. Employ yourself. Do you want to go into the kitchen and help Bessie with the bread? You make better bread than she does. Or will you weed my rose-bed, where, Smarden tells me, the celandine is already beginning to show? Or will you walk to the village and execute some commissions for me there, and call in at Mrs Hurst's cottage in Dumb Woman's Lane, to tell her that Sam and Lucy may come home tomorrow, and she is to have their clothes ready washed?'

‘I will do that,' said Maria. ‘And I will take Sam and Lucy for a walk down Dumb Woman's Lane to look for primroses.'

‘Very well. Sam and Lucy will be overjoyed to see you. But,' Charlotte directed a keen glance at her sister, ‘you are not going to the village in the hope of encountering Colonel FitzWilliam, are you?'

‘No, Charlotte.
Truly.
'

‘Very well. While you get your hat and pelisse, I will be making out a list.'

*   *   *

Hunsford village consisted of a few brick and tile-hung cottages assembled round a green, an oast house and the Hopsack Inn, a tolerably commodious establishment, thatched and weatherboarded. Once it had been somewhat marred by ill fame, spoken of as a resort of smugglers. But those days were long gone by. In the centre of the green was a quintain, or tilting-post, mistakenly assumed by strangers to be a flagpole adorned with some odd appendages; this, too, would long since have been consigned to the dust-heap of history, but Sir Lewis de Bourgh had been proud of it and had added a clause to his will providing for its annual repainting and refurbishment.

Maria Lucas had spoken truly to her sister when she asserted that she did not go to the village in hope of encountering Colonel FitzWilliam there; she was therefore not a little dismayed on reaching the green to recognize his tall, unmistakable figure across the grass, outside the post office, beside Miss Delaval in her basket-chair. A moment later Mr Delaval joined them, emerging from the post office.

The very last thing Maria felt inclined for, just then, was light-hearted conversation with the Delavals in company with the colonel; she had not greatly taken to the brother and sister, and wished they would put an end to their visit and quit Rosings. But Miss Delaval's ankle seemed to provide them with sufficient reason for indefinitely prolonging their stay.