Master of Gothic House 4

 

Chapter 4

 

“You are not dressing up in clothes you do not normally wear, Edwin; that’s just play-acting and tomfoolery,” said Elinor. “Wear a suit. I’ll be asking most of the questions and you and James Ringshall shall sit each side of me and ask any questions you wish to add, but if they assume you are the gentleman advertiser’s man of affairs in India, that’s their lookout.”

“Yes, Aunt Evermore,” said Edwin.

“You don’t fool me by acting meek,” said Elinor. “I know fine well you go your own path. But wearing anything but what you were reared to wear.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Edwin, who had been wont to play with the local boys dressed only in a loincloth in the glorious days when he could get away with it, and before they had come to England.

 

 

oOoOo

 

“Now, then, Miss Angela,” said Mrs. Partridge, “I have no doubt that dark skinned men are no different than white men, and white men are trouble so that applies to all men. I’m coming with you to the inn when he meets his shortlist, so there.”

“You need not put yourself out,” said Angela. “I... I am convinced the gentleman I met was the Indian gentleman, and when I was destitute and homeless, he could have used that to entice me, but he did not try.”

“Well, I hopes so, my dear, but I’m coming anyway.” Mrs. Partridge could afford to shut up shop; Edwin had arranged for her stock for the day to be purchased as a buffet for the visiting ladies, with sandwiches and filled rolls made by the inn, to add to Mrs. Partridge’s the sweet confections. Angela was not sure if this was philanthropy on the part of the Indian Gentleman, or merely that he was glad to have the direction of a baker’s shop making more fancy goods; the making of bread was hard physical labour which was beyond the elderly woman.

 

 

oOoOo

 

Gothic House almost shook to a regular fusillade of knocking.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” muttered Hymes, irritably. He opened the front door, and in strolled a goat.

“Well, I’m damned, that’s my friend from the village,” said Edwin. “Hymes! Look at the state of her, she’s half starved and her udders are full to bursting! You can count her ribs!”

“Take her through to the kitchen, my lord; my wife can milk a goat,” said Hymes. “That’s Faith, the vicarage goat, that is; and still in milk, after they sold Hope and Charity, too. Her kids,” he explained.

Edwin led the goat through to Mrs. Hymes, who exclaimed.

“You hold her head, my lord, and feed her some salad, and I’ll relieve her poor udder,” said Mrs. Hymes.  “And I’ll throw away what comes first, too. We can hope to avoid mastitis.”

“Hymes, nip down to the village, and ask what the devil the vicar means by letting her get to this state,” said Edwin. “And if he has no reasonable answer, I’ll be writing to the Bishop about him, as the living is in my gift, and I want him replaced.”

“Yes, my lord,” said Hymes. “Will I mention your involvement?”

“No, I don’t think so, nor that I plan to write to the bishop; he’s likely to turn up here and be unbearably oleaginous once he knows I’m the new viscount,” said Edwin. “Poor old girl!  We’ll have you up to scratch in a brace of shakes.”

 

Hymes returned, looking sour.

“Them ow’ vicar say that the goat is nothin’ ter do with him,” he said. “He declared goats to be beasts of Satan, and that he wants nothin’ ter do with it. Nothing to do with it, of course, I mean,” he added, his plummy tones returning. “Abrogating his responsibilities,” he added.

“And I wager he told that poor girl not to take anything belonging to the vicarage, as well,” said Edwin, grimly. “He’ll have to go.”

He duly wrote to the bishop; it could go in the next mail. This letter, he did frank.

Faith was given a stall in the extensive stables, which she mostly ignored during the day time, being content to spend some time on the kitchen garden turnip tops, and wander into the kitchen to the irritation of Ram Gopal.

“This caprine is not a sign of a well-run house, my lord, no, not at all,” he complained.

“She’s a more welcome guest than the spiders in the vestibule,” said Edwin. “This house is not, as yet, well-run; that’s the whole point.”

“I cannot like a goat in my kitchen,” said Ram Gopal.

“Put her out in the vestibule, then,” said Edwin.

And with that, Ram Gopal had to be content; though Edwin pretended not to hear him threatening Faith with becoming kebabs, whilst slipping her a handful of weeds to eat.

 

oOoOo

 

“You know what, Peter?” said Mariah Eddington, “I’ve answered an advertisement for a man seeking a bride. He’s an Indian gentleman, with a comfortable independence, and I don’t care if he’s brown, as long as he isn’t Tobias Carrington.”

Her brother stared at her.

“I thought you wanted to marry Toby?” he said. “You were used to say you would marry him when you grew up, when we let you hang around with us.  You never made much of a push to fix the attention of any other gentleman when I squired you to the assembly rooms in the summer after you came back from that deucedly expensive finishing school, so I assumed you were still of the same mind; and as Toby admired you now you’ve grown out of being gawky, and asked if I minded if he courted you, I said yes. If you don’t want him, that’s an end to it.”

Mariah stared. 

“But you seemed adamant that I should marry Toby!” she said.

“Only because I thought it was what you wanted!” said Peter. “I thought I was reassuring you that Toby was happy to marry you!”

“Oh!” said Mariah. “Well, in that case, I don’t have to run away and try to marry the Indian gentleman who advertised.”

“You’ll jolly well write to him, then, to whatever poste restante address he left, and apologise for wasting his time,” said Peter.

“Why should I apologise?” grumbled Mariah.

“Because you essentially accepted an implied potential offer of marriage, and are now turning it down,” said Peter.  “I won’t make you apologise to Toby, that’s on me for assuming you had not changed your mind, but you will write to the Indian gentleman.”

“Very well, Peter,” sighed Mariah.

 

oOoOo

 

“I don’t know why she doesn’t want to marry you, all of a sudden, Toby, when she used to be mad keen,” grumbled Peter. “I’m sorry; I know you carry a torch for her, and I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have as my brother.”

“Why, then, Pete, let us apply our famous pranking brains to the matter,” said Tobias Carrington. “I will thank her for her honesty, but in a week or so, I will be seen in the winter season to be dancing attendance on a lovely lady. And if Mariah is jealous, I will know not to lose hope.”

“You can’t go encouraging some other poor girl,” said Peter Eddington.

“I shan’t,” said Toby. “I know a young widow who has no desire to re-marry, as she would lose her widow’s portion, and she has young children to rear, but she’d take a small fee to pretend to be my flirt du jour.  George Abbott’s bride, you know,” he added, naming a third member of a schoolboy friendship, who had died in the wars with the French.

“Oh, well, that’s different,” said Peter. “A captain’s pension isn’t large, and Abbott was well enough blunted for a bachelor from his own fortune, but raising children on her third of six hundred a year won’t be easy, in addition to whatever his pension was.”

Toby smiled.  Peter was the best off of the three friends, and Toby thought that Laura Abbott would suit him very well; and then, if Mariah was duly jealous, he could tell her he was matchmaking for Peter.

It all fell nicely into place.

 

oOoOo

 

“Well, look at this,” said Edwin. “Two letters; one at the poste restante address, and one from the bishop.”

“A late entrant for the marriage mart?” asked Aunt Elinor.

“I suppose so,” said Edwin, opening it. “Oh, the reverse; one of the ladies is apologising for her withdrawal, as she misunderstood her brother’s intent, and she is not being forced into marriage after all. I must write and thank her for her honesty and apology.”

“And the bishop?”

Edwin tore open the letter, well decorated with a letterhead and seals, giving the grandeur of the letter scant respect. He snorted.

“Silly old fool,” he said. “Asked me to try to tolerate my uncle’s choice until after Christmas when he will try to find somewhere for him. I’ve a mind to write back and say that I will indulge him thus far, but withhold all pay in the New Year if he is not withdrawn. See how long the nasty fellow stays put when he isn’t being paid.”

“Do,” said Elinor. “You need to state your intent, after all.”

“Yes, I jolly well shall,” said Edwin. “And I’ll write that one first as I can work off my temper and show a doucer face to the young lady who cried off. I wonder if it was just a misunderstanding, or whether she used leverage of not running off with a gentleman of colour?”

“You’ll never know, but if it made a difference to her, you are well shut of her, my boy,” said Elinor. “What were you going to do with the second carriage, by the way?”

“What second carriage?” asked Edwin.

“Well, you said you were considering up to half a dozen young ladies; five, now, I assume,” said Elinor.  “And I will be travelling with them as chaperone.”

“Yes, that’s right,” said Edwin. “The Berlin will take three on each seat,”

“And where are you going to put their maids?” asked Elinor.

There was a long silence.

“I am not as clever as I thought,” said Edwin.

“You can hoop the old shooting brake and add a tarpaulin to keep off weather; it is one which has the seating arranged so the back of the long seats are outermost, and the feet inside. And maids will feel safer in that configuration than if they sat back to back with their legs outside the vehicle, too,” said Elinor. “And the compartment for dogs to take extra luggage, for those dratted girls will bring more than they need, and likely the kitchen sink too,” she added.

“You have saved me many blushes,” said Edwin. “And of course, it will not take everyone so we still have to stop when the Berlin breaks down.”

“Gunpowder! Honestly!” sniffed Elinor. “And what if it is wet?”

“Straight to the nub of the matter, Aunt Evermore!” said Edwin. “All I can do is to pack it in oilcloth to guard against splashes, and if it’s very wet, I’ll have to loosen the nuts on the hub and deliberately drive into a rut. It’s not as certain, but it can be done.”

“Or, you could stop the coach a little before where you want to have an accident, and check the wheel, and tell us there’s a nut worked off, and say that gently does it will take us all the way, and then fit your contraption when there’s no chance of any of the girls or their maids seeing it and asking questions, and being out in the open the shortest time possible,” said Elinor.

“You are a superior plotter, and I bow to your wisdom,” said Edwin.

“That’s as maybe, but you’d better sort out a maid for your ginger wench from the village,” said Elinor.

“Dear me, how do I arrange that without offending her?” cried Edwin.

“You send her a letter telling her that you are embarrassed to find that a dependent of yours passed away, and his daughter ended up on the parish, and being unable to take her into a bachelor household, you wondered if she would be kind enough to take the girl on, and you would, naturally, cover the wages and clothes allowance.”

“I adore you, Aunt Evermore!  If only you were thirty years younger and a few more degrees of separation between us, I’d look no further for a wife,” teased Edwin.

“Well, well, I shall take over the training of this ginger chit of yours, and make sure she is suitable,” said Elinor.

“I might not choose her, you know,” said Edwin.

“You might not. But we shall see how it goes,” said Elinor.  “I’ll go into Chelmsford to the orphan asylum and pick a suitable girl, who can be persuaded to conform to the right story.”

“You are going to get an innocent child to lie?” Edwin was shocked.

“Of course not! I’ll convince her you just discovered her, of course,” said Elinor. “Bound to be a girl whose family were tenants somewhere, so long as she believes it was your land, she’ll say as she believes.”

“You are a most devious person,” said Edwin.

“If I wasn’t, I shouldn’t have survived the idiot husband who was my parents’ choice and the far from idiot but most reprehensible rogue I took up with when he died,” retorted Elinor. “Oh, he was a handsome rascal, but I will say, he never let any scandal touch me, and he shot himself to save anyone finding out about his thievery, and I was never caught wearing any of the sparklers he stole, for I never knew about much of it, until he wrote about it all before he shot himself. Such a wicked man, and so much gaiety.”

“Was your second husband a highwayman?” gasped Edwin.

“I prefer to think of him as a gentleman of the road,” said Elinor. “Oh, I knew he was a crook, and I’ve bound up wounds tight enough for him to act quite healthy when Bow Street came too close, but I loved him to distraction, and he loved me.”

Edwin shook his head. Who knew Elinor had had such an exciting life!

 

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.