Master of Gothic House 3

 

Chapter 3

 

It was not long before Mrs. Hymes made a sound of disgust and tore up a letter before throwing it into the chamberpot.

“Really?” said Edwin.

“My lord, you don’t want to know what filth was written,” said Mrs. Hymes. “A vicious rant about a man of colour and ‘defiling’ if you will, English girls. I hardly knew where to look with the coarseness.”

“Mrs. Hymes! I am so sorry,” said Edwin. “I do not know how to make it up to you for having to experience such. But be assured, I will do my best to compensate you in your next pay packet. No woman should have to face coarse language.”

“Bless you, my lord, my dearie, don’t you worry about me,” said Mrs. Hymes. “I am glad you did not see it, though.”

“Some people are vile,” said Edwin. “I first discovered it when a maid was calling my mother vile names, and I asked father if it was sneaking to tell on people who were hurting others, and he said no. She was dismissed with a very truncated reference saying that she was probably honest.”

Mrs. Hymes and Hymes both winced.

“Not many people would employ her,” said Hymes.

“I don’t think anyone who betrays their employer by reviling them to all and sundry purely for their skin tone deserves loyalty back,” said Edwin. “Sarah and I were referred to, by her, as ‘the mongrel brats’ and that was when she didn’t call us worse. Papa was pondering on what to do when Sarah climbed on his knee and asked what a mongrel was and why she was one. That was when he hit the roof, and Elsie went with a flea in her ear.”

“I’ve come across a similar one here,” said Ram Gopal. “Please excuse me; I will open all of them and extract any which begin in such terms as ‘You disgusting epithet,’ since only the epithets used are likely to be different.”

“I’ll do it,” said Edwin.

“No, you will not, sah!” said Ram Gopal. “I won’t let you see such filth.”

“I don’t see why you should see it,” said Edwin.

“Your father charged me to look after you,” said Ram Gopal, stubbornly. “My family have been Kshatriyas, protectors, for many many centuries, and I will protect you from this.”

“Only if you take a note of which of them are local gentry so that I know to snub them,” said Edwin.

Ram Gopal bowed his head, stiffly, and went to work with a pencil and notepaper.

Edwin snorted over one.

“They don’t take any notice of my requirements,” he said. “This one says, ‘You will not mind that I am almost thirty since it will be a privilege for you to marry any English girl and beggars can hardly be choosers. I trust by ‘comfortable’ you mean an income of no less than £800 a year, as I could not consider demeaning myself to marry a man of colour for any less and if you are operating under false pretences, I will not even consider lowering myself to do so.’ Hoity-toity!”

“This one is more hopeful,” said Hymes. “‘Dear sir, My name is Mariah Eddington, and I believe I may suit your purpose. I am two-and-twenty years old with a trim, petite figure, and I am held to be attractive. I have independent means, but my brother is trying to push me into a marriage of his choice, and I am not prepared to marry his choice of man, and would rather explore more widely for myself, so you see, we may be able to help each other.’ A bit silly to admit to independent means, in case this was from a spurious source, my lord, but perhaps worth seeing?”

“Put her on the possible list,” said Edwin. “It seems foolish for anyone who has independent means to be ready to marry a stranger, but if her brother is causing her real trouble, I would be unfair not to meet her.”

Edwin discarded three in a row from damsels who thought they would like to visit India and see an elephant, or an Indian temple, or his diamond mines – and where the idea he had diamond mines had come from, Edwin was uncertain, since he owned a few shares in a ruby mine, and a larger share in both Dhaka muslin and silk, and had said nothing about the source of his wealth, or even its extent, in the advertisement. He snorted over the timid lady of twenty-seven who was prepared to help him with his English if he needed it and would only ask for one new bonnet a year, who might do better applying to his sister as a governess, as she was fond of children but wondered if an arrangement might be made where he adopted as childbirth was so frightening. He put the letter on its own to forward to Sarah, who could do as she saw fit.

“I want to ask about this one,” said Ram Gopal. “It feels... false, somehow.”

“Read, then,” said Edwin.

“‘My very dear sir, it was with great delight that I read your missive in the newspaper inviting the confidence of young ladies of suitable age and gentility to partake in the venture of marriage. I am    22    years old, so well below your maximum. I am well practised on the fortepiano for your entertainment and at embroidery as well. My family is sufficiently genteel for your consideration and I am more than happy to be a hostess for you. I remain your most obedient servant, Abigail Hendry.’ It seems to me as if there has been something else written where she says her age, which has been scratched out.”

Edwin held out a hand and examined the paper with a jeweller’s loop.

“I am almost certain it is a pair of brackets around the word ‘age’,” he said. “The letter is, if I do not mistake, made up of excerpts from an etiquette manual on how to craft letters, copied exactly instead of being used as a guide.”

“How extraordinary!” said Mrs. Hymes.

“I do not like such deception, but if the young lady is tongue-tied, it will, perhaps, be as well to meet her, and see what she is like in her own words,” said Edwin.

He opened another.

‘Dear sir, I am no beauty, but I think not unpleasing of aspect, and I cannot think that one should be prejudiced without finding out the personality of any person. I am nineteen years old, and have sole care of my little brother, Tommy, who is seven years old and I cannot consider marrying where Tommy was not welcomed into the marital home. I have some four hundred pounds a year, which is adequate at the moment, will not be enough to see Tommy through a decent grammar school, or university, so I find myself hoping to marry a man whose fortune is sufficient to see to his needs as a quid pro quo for providing him with children of his own. I am held to be of good natured disposition and do not ask for more than respect and hope that affection will grow. Yours truly, Clara Snowe.”

“Poor girl,” said Mrs. Hymes. “Very young to have care of a lively boy.”

“Indeed,” said Edwin.  “I confess, I am a trifle upset to find so many young girls willing to throw themselves at me, in order to have a little more comfort than that to which they are accustomed. They have no idea who I am, or what constitutes ‘comfortable;’ indeed, I discarded a little reluctantly a letter from the daughter of an apothecary, who says she is not a lady but feels sure she could learn if we lived quietly, and said that she did not wish to be mercenary but she hoped to find a husband worth more than one hundred pounds a year so that she would not have to worry how to pay the bills. She could not handle being a viscountess, I fear, but I put her in this other pile of those deserving to find small legacies.”

“You are a generous man, my lord,” said Hymes.

“I have never wanted, and I feel it behoves me to help the most destitute,” said Edwin.

“This one is interesting,” said Mrs. Hymes. “‘My dear sir, I am two-and-twenty years old, of reasonably pleasing appearance, tall, but with a good and graceful bearing, and I do not lack confidence and feel that I could manage to entertain without difficulty. I assume that there are reasons beyond being of Indian descent that you are in need of advertising, but so long as you are no older than forty, and do not squint very much, and are not affected by any social diseases I look upon this as an adventure. My own income is insufficient to enter society, and if you plan to entertain, you plainly intend to have a social life, which would be an advance upon living well enough but without excitement. My family are keen to betroth me to a yeoman farmer, who is a fine enough fellow, but I want more out of life than feeding hens and milking cows. I would not object if visiting India was indicated. Yours, Esther Mortimer.’”

“Squint, eh?” said Edwin. “I don’t squint at all.”

“The lady is presumably sufficiently ecumenical not to hold your race against you,” said Mrs. Hymes.

“Yes, that is an advantage,” said Edwin.

“My last one runs as follows,” said Hymes. “‘Dear Sir, I am a very beautiful woman of six-and-twenty years, so I have enough beauty for both of us; but it will not last long, and I want to have fun and go dancing and go to London, and enjoy all the pleasures a girl of less moderate means might do. I come from an old family which can lend you respectability, though we have no money. I do not care what you look like, so long as you give me a good time, with the security of a ring on my finger and a prenuptial agreement to see that I am well cared for when you die, assuming you are quite old and likely to predecease me. Yours truly, Jane Northcote.’”

“What an idea they have of me!” said Edwin. “Elderly, ugly, squinting, pox-ridden. Well, I must say, interviewing them might be amusing.  I make it half a dozen to see; and I will pick any number from three to all of that half dozen to test with Gothic House.”

“How do you plan to manage to so test them?” asked Hymes. “I mean, will you invite them here?”

“No, I plan to ask those chosen to join a house party to congregate in the inn, whence they are to be driven, with Aunt Evermore, to the venue of the house party. However, I am going to contrive to break a wheel just about outside Gothic house, late in the evening, so that we have to beg succour.”

“And how will you break a wheel at just the right time?” asked Ram Gopal, suspiciously.

“I will tamp a charge of gunpowder on the hub, and light a slowmatch to it,” said Edwin, calmly. “I toyed with asking you to shoot an elephant gun into it, but I decided that there were too many factors of risk.”

“One should be thankful for small mercies,” said Ram Gopal. “I hear a carriage on the drive; who can that be?”

Edwin looked out of the window.

“Oh, my,” he said. “It’s Aunt Evermore, driving herself with her long-suffering maid in a high-perch phaeton.”

“I’ll go and see to her horses,” said Ram Gopal.

“I’ll show her in,” said Hymes.

“Bring her through to the kitchen; her maid will have hysterics, and will leave her again, but Aunt Evermore won’t turn a hair,” said Edwin.

Presently the upright figure of an elderly lady in panniers swept into the kitchen ahead of Hymes, and embraced Edwin warmly.

“How like Miles to leave you this pile and expect you to pay to get it into order,” she said. “My dear boy! Hymes – we’re old friends, Hymes and I, he doesn’t mind what I say about Miles – says you’re reading the answers to the advertisement, so I thought you wouldn’t mind if I looked them over. Betty! Make yourself useful and make a good strong pot of tea, and I’ve a box of salmon some idiot gave me which will do very well for supper, two salmon should go round us all, with a nice parsley sauce and roast potatoes.”

“Thank you, Aunt Evermore,” said Edwin, meekly. “These are the ones I’m going to see.”

The old woman rifled through the letters.

“This Abigail Hendry sounds tuppence short of a shilling,” she said. “Written out of etiquette manuals if I’m not mistaken. Please tell me you weren’t impressed by her felicity of style?”

“No, I had already realised it was copied,” said Edwin.

“Well, don’t marry her. You’ll never handle being married to someone sitting opposite you at breakfast with her mouth flying at half mast sincerely mourning the loss of her brains,” said Elinor.

“I was drawn somewhat to a local girl I met, this is her letter, written before we met,” said Edwin, who had just discovered it.

“Dear sir,

My name is a little outlandish, as my parents were older parents celebrating a late child, and I have red hair, but at the age of two and twenty I fall within your criteria. My father was vicar of a small living, and my mother recently also passed on, so I am an orphan. I am quite adaptable and capable, and though I have never run a society dinner party, I have organised St. Thomas Day meals for the poor of the parish from whatever donations of food or money has been available and which is often a very eclectic selection. I assume that ‘comfortable’ must mean one hundred pounds a year or more, and enough to put aside to entertain, if you plan to do so; and if you mean to live in the country I can milk a cow or goat if you have one, and keep chickens as well as being fond of gardening. I only ask that you have a sense of humour and good conversation, as I would rather be monetarily poor than conversationally so.

Yours sincerely, Angela Cubitt.”

“Huh. Sounds a practical girl, at least,” said Elinor. “About the best of a dubious bunch. The one with the brother sounds promising, but too young... not that she won’t be older than her years to be thrust into the care of a child like that. Interesting that the Mortimer girl don’t want anything to do with hens or cows and the Cubitt lass is prepared to support you with such.  Miss Mortimer is above herself, I fancy. The Eddington wench’s brother might be a problem if he’s trying to fix her dowry to his friend. And the Northcote girl seems to think you’ll pay out for her to have fun.  My goodness, Edwin! You might almost buy a girl from an orphan asylum and train her up to your ways,  rather like that Greek fellow who made a statue to be his ideal and then wanted her to be real.”

“Pygmalion,” said Edwin.

“Yes, that’s the silly clunch I meant,” said Elinor.

 

Master of Gothic House 2

 

Chapter 2

 

Edwin wandered into the village whilst Ram Gopal went to see if there were any letters for ‘An Indian Gentleman.’ He mused that the church and rectory were most unusual, in that the rectory was built directly onto the church tower. The other cottages, mostly built of a mix of stone, flint, and wattle-and-daub nestled around the church on the triangular green, dominated by a pair of elm trees. The cottages all appeared to be thatched with reed, provided by the reedbeds of the river which ran in a loop around the small eminence of the church hill, suggesting a reason why the cottages huddled together out of way of flooding, with fields on the other side of the river. Some cottages straggled down a road towards a bridge over the river, which lead to Gothic House, on its own slight rise, half a mile from the village proper. The river was set about with aldercarr and reedbeds, giving the name to Aldermede. A girl came out of the church, and looked at Edwin with some curiosity. Edwin thought her older than a young lady who could strictly be called a ‘girl’ but then, she was dressed in mourning, which never flatters anyone, and bore the signs of grief.  Her clothes were unfashionable, old, and well-cared for, but unquestionably those of a lady.

“Can I help you, sir?” she asked.

“Oh! I am passing through, as you might say,” said Edwin. “I was intrigued by the intimate proximity of the church and, I conclude, the rectory, it being a larger cottage than most.”

“Oh, that stems back to the great storm in 1703,” said the young woman. “There were three elms on the green then, but one fell, and did so much damage to the church tower that it was decided to rebuild it. And I don’t know how it happened, but a mistake was made, and the tower was bigger than expected, and encroached on the rectory. So, rather than start again, it was incorporated into the tower with a door right into the ringing chamber. And very nice it was in inclement weather... when I was the daughter of the rector,” she concluded sadly.

“And now you are not?” asked Edwin.

“My parents were not young when I was born, which is why they called me ‘Angela,’ their little miracle angel,” she said, with a self-deprecating laugh. “Both thought that Angelica or Angelina, which are literary names, were too fancy, so Angela it was. And Papa died. The new rector let my mother and I stay on as cook-housekeepers and general servants, but now my mother has died and is no chaperone, I have two days to leave; but you have no interest in my affairs. Unless you have a wife who needs a maid,” she said.

“My dear young lady, you are a lady,” said Edwin. “Not a maid.”

“Not well enough educated in the right things to be a governess,” said Angela. “Papa taught me too many skills fitted for a boy, and I am, moreover, more capable as a gardener than a teacher of botany. Though I have answered an interesting advertisement from an Indian gentleman.” She gave him a straight look. “I do not think there can be many in rural Essex.”

“Maybe not,” said Edwin. “But a fair man will make no difference between any applicants when he views their letters.”

“Of course,” said Angela. “And I know that being ginger is against me.”

“Oh, I am sure the advertiser has no opinion on that,” said Edwin. “Do you have somewhere to go?”

“Yes, I am going to stay with our old cook; she was Papa’s pensioner, and she managed to save enough to rent a small house in Chelmsford, and she sells baked goods. I can help her with that.”

Edwin nodded.

“I am glad to hear it,” he said.  “We may meet again, but I sincerely wish you well.”

“Thank you,” said Angela. “I knew I was a fool to comment, and now I have lost any chance, but thank you for being civil to me, even if I was rather forward.”

“Oh, I will not let it affect my judgement,” said Edwin. “If  my comptroller shortlists you, and we meet again, I will pretend not to have met you.”

“I... thank you,” said Angela. She dropped a neat curtsey, and stood back to let him go on his way into the church. It was a fine one for its kind, with an angel roof, perhaps something which had influenced her father in his choice of name.

“We have a fine flight of angels,” said a male voice. “I am the Reverend Beckett, can I... oh!” he gasped as Edwin turned around.

“It is a fine wool church,” said Edwin. “Only single hammer beams but the angels are well carved. I believe you are the new incumbent?”

“Yes, indeed, the former rector was one Michael Cubitt,” said Beckett. “Did you know him?”

“Not well,” said Edwin, mendaciously. “He wrote and asked me to make sure his daughter was well cared for; I believe he may have been dying. I wonder if you can help me trace her?”

“I have had to send her away, it was ineligible for her to stay in a bachelor household when her mother died,” said Beckett, hastily. “I have no idea where she might be going. I... I have been staying in the inn whilst she vacates the rectory.”

“Oh, you had no thought of marriage with her, then, as you are a bachelor?” asked Edwin.

“My goodness, no! The girl has no accomplishments at all, cannot embroider, nor play the pianoforte, and she is more at home in an old smock working in the dirt in the garden! This might not be much of a living, but I expect to progress somewhere better, and I cannot take a bride who is scarcely more than a peasant when I go.”

“Oh, I see,” said Edwin.

Beckett smiled.

“Yes, even a foreigner must understand how it is,” he said.

“I wouldn’t know; I don’t know any foreigners,” said Edwin.  “The living is under Lord Aldermede, I conjecture?”

“Yes, I was appointed by the old lord; we are hoping that his nephew may visit us some day,” said Beckett.

“Well, I must be on my way; perhaps one of your servants will know where the girl has gone,” said Edwin. “I would like to apprise her of the small legacy which was left for her from her father’s investments in certain holdings.”

“She is still in the house for now, but it would be ineligible to call on her, even if you were...” he tailed off.

“White?” asked Edwin, with gentle malice. “I am held to favour my mother, who was a princess in India before she lowered herself to marry my father. It was a love match; and of such, the Good Lord approves.”

“Er... yes, quite,” said Beckett.

Edwin left, by the main door, downhill of the church, picking the bunch of flowers from the rectory garden which a goat was striving to reach, and holding them for the creature to devour.

“Well, my friend, that was interesting,” he murmured, scratching the goat’s poll. “I don’t like the new vicar, and it may not be eligible for a young girl to stay with him, but as I understand it, she can scarcely have buried her mother; there is a fresh grave over there, with a grave but a few months older beside it, and I imagine that will be the Reverend Cubitt and his relict. To avoid marrying her because they do not suit is one thing, but for such reasons... I think the new viscount will find another incumbent. Indeed, yes, I believe Archie Payne, who was at university with me, is waiting for a living.”

He strolled back towards Gothic House, whence, once on the main road, he was overtaken by Ram Gopal in the curricle, and taken back to the house.

“Four dozen letters,” said Ram Gopal.

“I might have to send you back to the bank there, with a letter covering an inheritance made to a Miss Cubitt,” said Edwin. “The only child of the previous rector, and treated with some unkindness by the current rector.”

“So, you are making up an inheritance?”

“The young lady has applied to our advertisement,” said Edwin. “And her clothes are virtually rags. Those I invite must be able to hold up their heads in front of each other.”

“Do you need the other answers?” asked Ram Gopal, bluntly.

“Yes,” said Edwin. “So far, all I feel for the girl is pity, and some admiration for how well she holds herself.  If I do not marry her, I will make her my pensioner, however. She is one of my local people and as such under my protection.”

“I am surprised she was not under the protection of either of the former viscount’s sons, if she is pretty,” said Ram Gopal, cynically. “I doubt being the child of man of the cloth would stop either of them from what I have heard.”

“Fortunately for her, she is only now coming into what I believe will be a serene beauty,” said Edwin. “I strongly suspect she is only just growing out of being a trifle gawky,” he added. “She is also ginger, which many people account a fault.”

Ram Gopal nodded.

“I will be pleased to return to the bank with a banker’s draft,” he said.

“I appreciate you, old friend,” Edwin said.

 

 

When Angela Cubitt reached her old cook’s little shop in Chelmsford, she was welcomed with a hug, and the news that there was a letter from the bank.

Angela paled. Letters from banks were rarely good news, in her experience. However, putting off opening it would not help, so she plied a hat pin to break the seal and read, going white and then red, and then white again.

“What is it, Miss Angela, my ducky?” asked Mrs. Partridge, the ‘Mrs.’  a courtesy for her position.

“I... apparently papa invested with a Mr. Ringshall and there’s a draft for seven hundred pounds from the maturing investment!”

“Well, that’s something as will help you when I’m gone,” said Mrs. Partridge.

“Oh, Cookie! I... I was thinking that if I bought some fabric and employed a girl, I’d not feel so dowdy to... to meet the Indian gentleman,” said Angela, who had told Mrs. Partridge everything.

“Aye, but it won’t hurt to ask if you can’t re-invest some of it too,” said Mrs. Partridge.

“Yes, that’s very wise,” said Angela.  She stepped round to the bank to arrange this, to the slight consternation of the manager, had she but known it, who had been asked to write the letter on behalf of Mr. Ringshall by Ram Gopal, who had borne cash to him for that purpose, explaining that Mr. Ringshall was the brother-in-law of his master, Viscount Aldermere. Letters exchanged between them had, however, been shown, and Mister Nokes of the Colchester and Chelmsford general bank was moved to agree with the young lady that reinvestment of half the sum was a very wise move, and drove himself into London with the sum secure in his waistcoat pocket to see Mr. Ringshall personally.

Mr. James Ringshall was used to the quixotic kindness of his brother-in-law, and did not turn a hair.

He fully anticipated doubling the young lady’s investment before the New Year came around, and knew that Edwin would approve.

“Oh, Jimmie, do you think Edwin has a Case at last?” asked Sarah, when her husband confided in her.

“No idea, m’dear, and don’t you go interfering,” said Mr. Ringshall. “I don’t know what maggot Edwin has in his head, but there’s no point trying to head him off when he’s got the bit between his teeth.  He has me arranging for your great aunt to go to Chelmsford and provide a chaperone for a number of girls.”

“Oh! It was him then, who advertised for ladies willing to marry an Indian gentleman!” said Sarah. “I suppose I am too young to go as chaperone, and vet them for him.”

“And too far gone with our second child,” said Mr. Ringshall, firmly.  “I am sure Edwin is capable of making up his own mind without you.”

Sarah was forced to hold that this was true; Edwin went his own way, and was distressingly often correct to do so, so that one could not hold his stubbornness against him. She was very fond of her brother, and her firstborn rejoiced under the name ‘Edwin James Giles Annesley Ringshall’ for the honouring of all the men in her life.

 

oOoOo

 

Unaware of the careful use to which Angela put his covert gift, Edwin turned his attention, with the aid of Hymes, Mrs. Hymes, and Ram Gopal, to the extremely full mail-bags as there had been more when Ram Gopal had returned.

“Good G-d!” said Edwin. “There must be hundreds of letters here.”

“Two-hundred and thirty-two,” said Ram Gopal. “And I have extracted Miss Cubitt’s letter to put in the file to be interviewed.”

“Auntie Evermore is going to be taken aback,” said Edwin, then coloured. “It’s a joke on me not hearing her name right when we were very little, her name is Elinor. She took it in good part, and said that she intended to live a long time, but ‘Evermore’ was probably a slight exaggeration. She’s going to have fun making comments about them, I wish she had been able to join me to read letters, but she is staying with a sick friend in Bath.”

“Mrs. Clitheroe is a formidable lady,” said Ram Gopal. “I am sure her friend will soon feel better.”

Edwin sniggered.

“Either that, or she’ll die to escape her,” he said. “I love my aunt but she is too robust for some people. A definite product of her time.”

“What is the criterion for searching, my lord?” asked Mrs. Hymes.

“I specified the age, for one,” said Edwin. “The advertisement ran, ‘An Anglo-Indian gentleman of comfortable means seeks a lady to become his wife who is prepared to bear him children within the marriage. She should not be over six-and-twenty years old, and should be willing to live in the country. Indian cuisine will be a part of the household. Must be well-read, and capable of holding a household, including entertaining. Should have a bright and lively intellect and pleasing personality.’ I think that covers it.  Anyone trying to tell me that she is only thirty-two, or who will engage to change my reliance on Indian cuisine, and who wants to fob off her own children in place of bearing children for me is out. I would not necessarily turn down a young widow, or someone with siblings in need of a home.  If unsure, read it out to me.”

“Yes, my lord,” said Mrs. Hymes. “That seems clear enough.”

Ram Gopal gave each of them a dozen letters to start with, to be placed in the pile of ‘sounds good,’ the pile of ‘go through again,’ and the ceremonial chamber pot for the disposal of the totally unsuitable.

 

Master of Gothic House 1

 

Chapter 1

 

“It’s very... Gothic,” said Edwin, uncertainly.

“Yes, my lord; it’s why it is commonly called ‘Gothic House,’ said Hymes, the butler.

“I’m not used to being ‘my lord,’ you know,” admitted Edwin.

“I am sure your lordship will become more nearly acquainted with the felicity of the situation as time passes,” said Hymes.

Edwin thought the butler sounded more like his idea of a viscount than he felt. He had never anticipated inheriting his uncle’s title, since his uncle had two sons, one of them married with a potential heir on the way; but Uncle Miles Annesley’s younger son had fallen at Waterloo, half an hour before the French sued for peace, and his older son had decided to make a trip of collecting his brother’s body, with shopping in Paris for his wife, and their yacht had gone down in a freak storm in the Bay of Biscay. And then, Uncle Miles had had an apoplexy, and managed to name the offspring of his estranged younger brother before he died.

Edwin was not sure for what solecisms his father had been packed off to India; but Giles Annesley had amassed a fortune, married the daughter of a Rajah, and returned home in triumph with Edwin and Sarah, an Indian nanny and manservant, invested wisely, and proceeded to loan money to his older brother, Miles, at need, when his sons proved very expensive. This had not made him any more popular with the older viscount.

Mama had succumbed to some winter ailment engendered by the exigencies of the English weather, and Papa had followed her, in failing to take care of himself properly. Fortunately, by that time, Sarah was already betrothed to Giles’s man of business, and they married quietly, and inherited Devi Lohar as a nanny to any anticipated offspring. Ram Gopal Kumar remained with Edwin, having been something of a tutor in riding and swordplay to Edwin when he was growing up. He ruled the English servants with a rod of iron.

And now, Edwin was Viscount Aldermede, and Aldermede Hall was more commonly called ‘Gothic House,’ having been a medieval hall house which had been added to when the viscountcy did some kind of favour to Henry VIII, and most of the local priory had been added to the original austere timber-framed building with cobblestone lower floor.

“Are there... uh, any other servants?” asked Edwin, looking with some distaste at the cobwebs hanging like banners in the vestibule.

“Only the housekeeper, my lady wife,” said Hymes. “His lordship was not a tolerant man, and took delight in informing the few that were left that they would have to serve a...” he delicately cleared his throat, “A man of colour.”

“I don’t suppose the word he used was complimentary,” said Edwin, dryly.

“If I may say, my lord, though you are a trifle swarthy, few would realise,” said Hymes.

“Oh? Well, I don’t intend to hide it. I loved my mother very much, and I honour her bravery in coming to live in a foreign country where the climate was not at all what she was used to,” said Edwin, staring down his nose at Hymes.

A thin smile touched the austere features of the butler.

“Bravo, my lord; just the right manner, and, if I may say so, a touch of the old lord too. I have no more reservations, if you will stand up for yourself.”

“Dammit! Were you testing me?”

“Yes, my lord,” said Hymes.

“You old rogue,” said Edwin, more in charity with Hymes than he had been. “The place is filthy.”

“Yes, my lord; it breaks Mrs. Hymes’s heart, but she can’t do it all,” said Hymes. “But I don’t suppose you would want servants who would disparage you, anyway.”

“Well, I shall, in that case, bring the servants I have in our house in town to make a start,” said Edwin. “I have no butler as Ram Gopal is my comptroller of the household. I will expect you and him to come to an arrangement. Does your wife oversee the cooking?”

“She cooks for me and for her,” said Hymes.

“Then Ram Gopal Kumar can rule the kitchens, and the kitchen gardens, as well as being my valet,” said Edwin. “That seems an equitable division of labour. And my cook is English and can cook Engish dishes and knows when to let Ram Gopal have his way.”

“Yes, my lord,” said Hymes, who suspected that life was going to be interesting.

“I shall, I suppose, have to marry,” said Edwin. “And now, I suppose, those who did not like my background will ‘overlook it,’ for a viscount.”

“I fear so, my lord,” said Hymes.

“I am tempted to advertise, ‘Indian gentleman of adequate means with English connexions seeks a bride, must be a lady, under five-and-twenty years old, prepared to provide offspring in return for a comfortable lifestyle,’” said Edwin.

Hymes managed an austere smile.

“That, if I may say so, my lord, should get rid of most of the timewasters,” he said. “You would need to reduce the number who still apply to those who sound most suited, discarding those who tell you that they are only a few years over the age you stipulate, and who mean as much as five or six years by ‘a few,’ those who are apparent in fighting a, ah, distaste, over your background, and those who either wish to bring their own child or children to the marriage or who wish to tie up tightly some agreement that once brought to bed, they may be considered free to have discreet lovers.”

“Good G-d!” said Edwin, in shock. “It appears to be almost as much of a minefield as the season.”

“The difference is, my lord, that you have more control over meeting them; first in some neutral venue in London or some other city. And then perhaps hire a chaperone in order to have a house party or some such.”

“I have a better idea,” said Edwin. “Let this house be a test.  I will observe them covertly as they are interviewed by my man of business, and then I will borrow clothes from Ram Gopal and pretend to be the coachman, and take those who are front-runners to a house party, but arrange an accident, and bring them to this mausoleum to see how they handle it, and you and your lady will pretend to be caretakers reluctantly giving succour.”

Hymes gave a slow smile.

“I like the way your lordship thinks,” he said. “But may I suggest you dress as an ordinary coachman; less exotic, and merely weather-beaten.  You might dress like an Indian gentleman to conduct the interviews in case you have a question you wish to interpose. You can let them think you are a representative of yourself.”

“I wasn’t sure when I first met you, Hymes, but I’m beginning to think you are a capital fellow.”

“Thank you, my lord; I might venture to say the same.”

Edwin roared with laughter, and slapped Hymes on the shoulder.

“Let us go and write out an advertisement  and post it in the newspapers of the local large towns,” he said. “Chelmsford and Brentwood, I believe.”

“Yes, my lord. Unless you wish to seek further?”

“Let us start local and then spread wider if I find nobody satisfying. I need to set up a post restante address at some hostelry.”

Hymes cleared his throat.

“If I may suggest, my lord, that patriotic inn, ‘The Black Boy,’ in Chelmsford, named for Prince Charles, who became Charles the Second, and who was swarthy. I fancy you might like the irony?”

“I do,” said Edwin.

 

 

oOoOo

 

 

Ram Gopal regarded his master with disapproval.

“This is not a regular way of finding a young lady to marry, Mister Edwin, most certainly not,” he complained.

“What am I supposed to do, Ram Gopal? Marry someone who pretends not to dislike me so she can be a viscountess? How else do I find out if someone is ready to like me for myself?

“I suppose it has some merit, but this testing with the house... what is it that you hope to achieve?”

“In adversity, people show their best and their worst. So, I will see the real side of the women I take there.”

“They will know that the coachman is the same man who asks them questions; your eyes are olive green and it is a most distinctive colour.”

“They aren’t likely to be staring into the eyes of the coachman,” said Edwin.

Ram Gopal considered.

“If any young lady notices, she will be a lady of singular perspicacity, and worth getting to know better,” he opined. “And am I to be in this Gothic monstrosity with you, as support?”

“Perhaps you had better,” said Edwin. “You may clean the kitchen.”

“Thank you, my lord,” said Ram Gopal, much relieved. “If I may say so, it is an extreme test, and moreover, we are heading for winter, and the thought of smoking chimneys does not fill me with joy.”

“Make sure that there is equipment to sweep the chimneys; there has been an invention of a series of canes to fit together. I am sure we can manage that if one of the ladies is capable of ordering it.”

“You have rats in your attic, Master Edwin,” said Ram Gopal, affectionately.

“Better mad than married to a besom,” said Edwin. Ram Gopal considered this, and gave a curt nod.

 

The advertisement went into the local papers, and Ram Gopal and Edwin moved into Gothic House to make sure it was well stocked with provisions, in case of being snowed up; and Ram Gopal declared himself satisfied with the state of the kitchen. Edwin claimed for himself the room above the porch, which was best described as cosy; it was panelled with linenfold panelling, some of which folded back, as Hymes showed Edwin, to provide a stair beside the chimney stack both up to the room above, which had no other means of entrance, and down into the back of a recess for hanging cloaks and coats in the porch, this stair down being hardly more than a ladder and hidden behind the coats.

“I love it,” said Edwin. “So very English that it satisfies the English side of me.”

“I will live in the servants’ quarters for now, sir,” said Ram Gopal. “I do not think I need to hide in a priests’ hole.”

“And when the young ladies are here, they will want proper bedrooms,” said Hymes. “You have a spy hole onto the landing, my lord, but not into the bedrooms.”

“So I should hope,” said Edwin. “But girls like to giggle together and gossip before going down, so, as it is a wide landing, I may hope to get some better idea about them.”

The house was built in an H-shape, the original medieval house being the central bar, more modern than a hall-house, in having a floor made on purpose over the downstairs entrance hall, which had been made into two rooms, a reception room opening off the porch, and a counting-house the other side and a boudoir behind it. To the right  of the reception room, the new section housed a grand dining room at the front of the house, with grand staircase to the landing, running across the back of the house, opening into two bedrooms and between them a linen closet, which was entirely internal, sharing a chimney with Edwin to heat irons. He reflected that it would be a most uncomfortable room to work in but it concealed the door to his own room, which might be assumed to be occupied by a housekeeper or laundry maid; and the vent for steam onto the landing, where there was also a window to the back of the house, his spy hole. Back stairs were off the landing for the servants, and led to the kitchens behind the grand staircase. The master bedroom was over the dining room here, and Edwin thought he would be happy to occupy a light, airy room one day. At the back of the house behind the stair case was a study.

“The other side of the new part... if one might call a mix of Elizabethan and Jacobean ‘new,’ my lord, there is a grand ballroom, which stretches the length of the wing. Above it there are three bedrooms. There are three smaller bedrooms above that for children of the house or a governess.”

Edwin nodded.

As manor houses went it was not large, but he was beginning to love it.

“And all under Holland cloths, of course, to preserve the furnishings?” he asked.

“Of course, my lord,” said Mrs. Hymes. “I cannot clean the whole house on my own, but there is no reason to be profligate.”

“And your own quarters, and those of Hymes, are they adequate?”

“Oh, yes, my lord, we have a room and an office which we share on the ground floor at the back of the main house, and my still room, and there are rooms above that reached by the servant’s stair including a more convenient linen closet, and rooms for such upper servants as a chaplain, or a secretary, which have windows over the back kitchen garden, and the stables at the back, not joined to the wings at all and on the kitchen side, with a wall to close off the kitchen gardens from such things.”

“And what do you want, Mrs. Hymes? Ram Gopal tells me the stove is a closed stove but it can best be described as ‘adequate’ and ‘antique,’ running through ‘barbaric,’ ‘curmudgeonly,’ and I can’t remember the rest.”

“Oh, that man knows a lot of long words, so he does,” said Mrs. Hymes. “Well, I don’t say a new one might not be nice, and maybe if the draining could be put in, one o’ these Bramah closets.”

“I shall see if I cannot arrange to accommodate you  in this,” said Edwin. “There is room under the grand staircase, I should think.”

“It’s a cloakroom with closed stools at the moment, gentlemen one side, ladies the other,” said Mrs. Hymes. 

“Well, that is better than going outside in the bitter cold, and please use it, you and Hymes,” said Edwin. “I think I will not do any updating until I have chosen a wife.”

“No, sir, you don’t want it to look too good,” said Mrs. Hymes.  “Girls are a bunch of dratted fools, my lord, and their estate don’t make no difference, heads in the air and expecting a load o’ fool nonsense.”

“Your opinion tallies with mine, Mrs. Hymes,” said Edwin.