The trellised lane, p.1
The Trellised Lane, page 1
The Trellised Lane
Fiona Hill
Copyright
Diversion Books
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Copyright © 1975 by Ellen Pall
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
For more information, email info@diversionbooks.com
First Diversion Books edition November 2014
ISBN: 978-1-62681-471-4
More from Fiona Hill
The Autumn Rose
The Stanbroke Girls
Sweet’s Folly
The Practical Heart
The Wedding Portrait
The Love Child
Love in a Major Key
The Country Gentleman
To the memory of Georgette Heyer
Chapter I
“But Fitz, dear, I wish you will think for a moment, if only for a moment. If you will not go, it means I shall never go either.”
“Well, you needn’t fly into the boughs just yet, Julia,” replied her brother. “I am sure I need only speak a word to my father—”
His sister broke in on him. “My father will do nothing without my stepmother’s consent. The way she manages him is beyond everything; I can hardly credit it! Fitz, I have been round it and round it with them, and the conclusion is always the same. I shall not be permitted to set foot in London unless I have the escort of my gallant elder brother.”
Fitzgerald, who was lounging full-length on a sofa, adjusted a cushion behind his head. “I am sure I don’t know when I became your ‘gallant elder brother,’” he said. “So far as I can recall, I have had nothing but cross words and ill humours from you, until today.”
“You have become my gallant brother because my Lady Edgehampton desires you will be so. You may be sure the only reason she should take such a ridiculous notion into her head is that she is as yet but little acquainted with you. Perhaps her eyes are blinded with a stepmother’s love. When she knows you better, she will see the error of her ways, but for the moment, Fitz, you are my last and best hope. Please do say you will come with me.”
“I shall engage for nothing of the kind!” cried the obstinate young man. Then, noticing the tears that had begun to crowd into Julia’s eyes, he added, “Very well, at least not until you have given me a thorough account of what has brought you to so desperate a pass. You know,” he went on somewhat more kindly, “you have hardly explained it to me at all.”
Julia shifted in her chair and dabbed her eyes lightly with a lace-edged handkerchief, which she had hitherto been twisting quite beyond recognition. Sniffling slightly, she now began to speak in a calmer tone. “Well, you know, Fitzgerald—”
“‘Fitz,’ please, for the love of Heaven! ‘Fitz!’” said her brother, interrupting her at the risk of inducing a fresh cascade of tears. “You know I cannot stand that idiotic name.”
“Very well, then,” said Julia, recovering some of her spirit. “Fitz. Fitz, as you know very well, since the death of our mother, this house has been my…well, I mean I have rather concerned myself with…that is to say—well, in short, I have had management of the household, been my father’s hostess—”
“You mean you have acted as a queen in this establishment, and had your way in every thing. Yes, I had noticed,” said her gallant sibling. “Do continue, pray.”
“I have hardly played a queen, Fitz,” cried the wounded lady, glancing at him with flashing eyes that seemed to belie the despair she had professed a few moments before. “However,” she conceded, “I have indeed done my utmost to smooth those difficulties and vexations that naturally attend the daily course of a home this large—and in a manor the size of Edgely Hall, Fitz, that is not quite nothing.” She stood up and went to stir the fire, hoping to present an humble and domestic appearance.
It could not be denied that Julia spoke truly. Edgely Hall was indeed a vast property, built with a flourish by the first Earl of Edgehampton under the reign of Henry VIII. No comparable mansion stood within fifty miles of its parks, lawns, and orchards, nor even a pretender to comparison. Behind the elegant façade, lately painted white and set off with a row of laurels, a jumble of shadowy galleries, ornate chambers, long, narrow halls, and high-ceilinged saloons seemed to ramble on for miles. Finally, one reached the sloping grounds and the woods, where a fairly chaotic collection of flower beds, pleached alleys, shaded walks and groves was crowned, as though symbolically, by a maze of hedges. The gardeners had long since lost the key to its plan, for generations of happy, careless dilettantes were responsible for this structural fantasia; but the mania of the late Lady Edgehampton for flora of any description had capped all their efforts and removed even the pretense of order from the premises. Now, of course, the babel of colour she had planted there was stilled by winter and a light carpet of snow; but inside the house, in solariums, conservatories, and in every sunny nook she had found, there still proliferated masses of ferns, herbs, and flowers.
Fitzgerald, however, had lived too long amid this confusion to be much impressed by his sister’s claim to careful management. Although he was growing impatient with the recital he had requested of her, he granted that she had done well enough with the housekeeping, but wished to know, “What does that signify?”
She turned from the fire and began to walk about the room. “It signifies a great deal, Fitz,” said Julia, ready to reproach him for his lack of sympathy. “Only think, for two years now, and until a few months ago, I have been mistress of my own house. But since my father’s remarriage to my new Lady Edgehampton, I have had nothing to say to any of it. Not a single dish has sat upon our table that she did not bespeak, supervise, and approve of previously. I protest, Fitz, it is outside of enough!”
“Yet, she seems to do it well enough; have you been displeased with any thing? In fact, and meaning no disrespect to my late mother’s talent for homely affairs, my stepmother seems to have introduced a comforting bit of method into the madness of Edgely Hall. In all fairness, you must admit that?”
“O my, yes, brother, indeed Lady Edgehampton is a capable woman; and I must confess as well that her coming has relieved me of certain irksome duties—but Fitz, I must have a house of my own! I simply cannot creep back into the schoolroom and remain there as though I had never emerged. Besides.” she murmured, with something between a smile and a pout, “the schoolroom is rather crowded of late.”
Fitzgerald sat up. “Now, that is something I have noticed,” he said, a spark of fire in his voice. “Why my father took to wife a woman with three children is really beyond my comprehension. Kathryn is quite a charmer, I must say, and the baby is too young yet to be much of an annoyance, but Stephen! Nine years of unholy terror, that’s what little Stephen is made of, and if he thinks I shall soon take him hunting again, he had best think it out once more.”
“Unholy terror!” said Julia, doing a right-about and bursting with indignation. “Stephen a bundle of terror! I never heard so unjust an accusation! That child has ‘angel’ written all over him; I never saw such a sweet face, such gentle manners and cheerfulness—”
“O, so you call it cheerfulness, do you? Do you call it cheerfulness to burst into whoops when a man is about to take a shot at a hare? That is what he did, Julia, and you can be sure the hare laughed too when he got home safe. I call it cheek, sister; I call it impudence.”
“Cheek? Because an excited boy of nine cannot regulate his laughter? Because his joy at receiving a few hours of attention from his haughty new stepbrother overwhelmed him and would have expression? Fitz, I blush to hear you so harsh.”
Julia did not, of course, actually blush, but her brother saw some justice in her criticisms and ceased to exclaim over what was really only a slight irritation from the first. “Still,” he muttered, “he will have to be taught how to behave himself when hunting.”
“Of course, he will,” said Julia soothingly, resuming her seat opposite him, “and you yourself are just the one to do it. I am sure no one was ever half so admirable a huntsman as you.”
“Doing it rather too brown,” mumbled Fitzgerald, pleased nonetheless with what was in fact rather a just compliment, since he rarely missed a shot. “Why don’t you go on with your explanation?”
Julia was happy to comply with this request. “I have no fault to find with my stepmother’s housekeeping, and I consider her children positively cherubic. But the fact is, I must have my own house, and quickly, if we are ever to get along. And the only way to obtain my own house is to marry. And the only way to marry is to go to London. And the only way to go to London is with your chaperonage—my dear Fitz,” she added.
“Just one moment, if you please. I fear I do not think quite so quickly as you. Now, I admit that you cannot set up your own establishment unless you are married, for although I am sure my mother left you quite enough money, it simply would not do to have you out of Edgely Hall and on your own. Only think how it would look!”
“I have thought, Fitz, and that is why I am determined to marry. But we must find me a suitable husband, and that is why we are obliged to go to London.”
“I beg your pard
“No, of course not, silly; don’t be ludicrous. My meaning is that I must go somewhere to find a husband, for there is certainly no one suitable within an hundred miles of Edgely Hall—unless,” she added, grimacing, “you would have me marry Colonel Clapton, who is twice my age, and three times as big around.”
“Why, such nonsense, Julia!” said her brother, grinning. “I am persuaded it will be an admirable match. You two suit to perfection; I can see you together in a carriage already: Colonel Clapton occupies three quarters of the seat, and you can take the rest…Such economy!”
His sister smiled briefly at the picture he had drawn, but soon insisted on a return to the matter at hand. “The plain truth is, there is nothing for it but to go to London. My stepmother knows crowds of people there, and I am sure to find the fellow I need in no time.”
A flurry of snow pattered on the long windows of the drawing-room, giving the light in the room a curious whitish quality that now and then took on the glow and colour of the crackling fire. Fitzgerald scanned his sister with a critical eye. She had outgrown a great deal of girlish awkwardness to become a very fine-looking woman indeed. One might find fault with the wideness of her mouth, or the almost excessive length of her neck, but her forehead was broad, her brows delicate, her complexion as fair as one could desire, and her deep-green eyes large and especially fine. The whole fell far short of the ideal beauty of the time—rosy cheeked and red lipped—but a sense of elegance and expressiveness attended her every gesture, and gave her an air to which no man could object. Her brother had no doubt of the admiration she would receive if she were exposed to a large-enough audience, yet he was still unready to become a part of her scheme.
He hesitated a moment, then said, “Why does not my stepmother go with you?”
“And the children? And my father, who has only just married her? Fitz, I do not wish to transfer this entire household to a different place; I only wish to escape for a few months with the object of finding a husband. Believe me, please, I should be more than happy to go unaccompanied, but my stepmother insists that you come with me—as well as half the servants. It is on condition of your companionship that the whole scheme rests, so you see you are quite indispensable. And besides,” she said, taking another tack, “I daresay you will truly enjoy it. We shall have the cottage in Hampstead all to ourselves, so indeed we really shall not be in London proper. Hampstead is quite rustic, you know—in fact, almost country, although it is only three miles from town. And we shall have all of Hampstead Heath to ramble in, which I think is as large as our own grounds. And,” she went on, growing really enthusiastic, “we shall go to plays and concerts, to the opera and to balls; we shall meet lots of new people, and you can take boxing lessons and see prizefights, and get into as many scrapes as you please. Why, you may even meet a young lady you particularly like, and—”
At this point her brother interrupted her. “Julia, I have no intention of marrying, as you very well know, and neither, come to think of it, did you—until today.” He stopped, his eyes obviously questioning.
“Well, I know it, and if you do not think I am heartsick at having to reverse all my plans, then you do not understand me.” Julia’s voice lowered, suddenly her tone was one of real dejection. “I have never thought of marriage for myself; I have been happy with my books, and painting, and especially my music. I am sure I never should have thought of marriage, until my new Lady Edgehampton arrived. But now, Fitz,” she said earnestly, “the house is no longer my own; the library and my private sitting room, the gardens and my mother’s cherished flowers—even my dear pianoforte no longer seems to be my own. The rooms I have so much loved are now scenes of a family life that, however gay and lively, can never be truly mine. I must make a place of my own, before I become a cause of unhappiness to both my father and his new wife.”
She looked up, and was amazed to find a grimace on her brother’s countenance, where a moment before she had seen real understanding. “Fitz,” she cried, “why are you pulling that dreadful face?”
“Julia,” said he, gravely. “My dear and most honoured sister…you are not going to bring that thing with us to London?”
“What thing do you mean?”
“That thing, that—that pianoforte,” said her brother, with exaggerated disgust. “It is bad enough to have you playing it night and day in a mansion of this size; but to have to listen to it in a cottage would be outside of enough!”
“Fitzgerald!”
“FITZ!”
“Yes, Fitz, then, you needn’t shout,” she said, beginning to weep in anger and frustration. “You know that pianoforte is the one thing that makes my life worthwhile; I love it so, Fitz, and it was my dear mother’s—”
“Don’t cry, scatterbrain. If you’ll only think a moment—only a moment—.” he said, mimicking her with a smile.
Julia leaped from her chair. “O!” she cried, and “O!” again. “O Fitz! You’re coming! I mean, we’re going! You said ‘us’! You wouldn’t care if I had the pianoforte or not if you didn’t mean to go—and you do care! O Fitz,” she repeated, in a delirium of joy, dancing absurdly about the room and trying to embrace her less excited brother, “we’re going!”
Chapter II
Of course, there was a great deal to be settled before the journey could begin. Lady Edgehampton required several weeks to meditate upon which of her friends would be most helpful and suitable to Julia’s endeavour. In the end she chose a certain Mrs. Norcross, remarking that her son Benjamin’s good sense would in all likelihood compensate for Patience Norcross’s excitability, and that in any event it would be difficult to find a more acceptable family in town during the winter. Although the Norcrosses were not noble themselves, she assured Julia that they were extremely well-connected, and had the means to introduce her to nearly any one. She still was at a loss to understand why her stepdaughter insisted upon going to London so soon, but if such were Julia’s wishes, it was not for her Ladyship to question them; indeed, she did a great deal to further their fulfillment. She did, however, trouble to warn her stepdaughter that she might find London quite a deserted place, since few families took up their city residences till April. Nevertheless no such warning, however well-meant, dissuaded Julia from her conviction that London was where she must go, and the sooner the better.
Julia had secured her brother’s cooperation on a dreary Sunday in February; it was not till March that they set forth upon their expedition. In addition to sending a letter of introduction to her friends, the Norcrosses, and receiving (in due course) their gracious reply, Lady Edgehampton took it upon herself to provide the house in Hampstead with a full complement of servants, chosen from the secondary ranks of the Edgely Hall staff, and therefore to be trusted. Draughted into service were Mrs. Gill, the under-housekeeper, and Mr. Hale, who in Edgely Hall served as an under-butler. These two individuals had different ideas as to whose word carried more authority, but at least each recognised the other as a worthy opponent; and both were eager for the decisive battle, which would, of course, be fought in Hampstead. Mrs. Forster, who held the position of third cook in the earl’s mammoth kitchens, was also conscripted, and she too was delighted with the prospect of escaping the four superior eyes that had hitherto surveyed all she did. Anne, who was Julia’s abigail, and Mr. Donning, Fitzgerald’s valet, were naturally pressed into this small corps as well; Fitzgerald’s tiger, Kitt, during an extremely trying interview for both parties, contrived to convince Lady Edgehampton of his capabilities—so much so that she consented to allow him to serve as coachman to Julia as well as groom to Fitzgerald. The only real difficulty in all these proceedings arose when Lady Edgehampton announced to Julia that she could not countenance the excursion unless Miss Piffin made one of the party. Miss Piffin, it must be understood, had been governess to both Fitzgerald and Julia; for the past few years, she had stayed on at Edgely Hall; although she no longer had any real function, it had never occurred to any one to dismiss her. When the family had received the news that Lord Edgehampton was to marry a lady with three children, no one was happier than Piffin, since if the others had not observed that she was useless to the household, it cannot be supposed that this circumstance had escaped her own notice. So it was that Miss Piffin was foremost in welcoming the new children to the hall, and from the moment of their arrival, she had spent every hour of every day following one or another of them about, picking up their toys, correcting their manners, supervising their activities, and just generally annoying the nurses who had actually been engaged to care for them. Within the space of a se’ennight, Lady Edgehampton was deluged with complaints from her own carefully selected staff, who found every thing in the new house quite to their liking except the ubiquitous Miss Piffin. Her Ladyship felt, and quite properly, that it would be impolitic to suggest the discharge of a woman whom everybody else seemed to take for granted, but something had to be done with her, and as speedily as possible. It was this circumstance that caused her Ladyship to urge Miss Piffin’s company on Julia with such extraordinary vigour; unfortunately, Julia objected to the suggestion with almost equal strength.
