Chapter 1
“Mama, are you
comfortable?” asked Diana, as Leontina Attwood sank back into the squabs of the
landau with a sigh.
“Yes, thank
you, my dear,” said Leontina. “Dear me,
how odd it will seem to be going back to Bath with a much enlarged family.”
“At least we
have Buckley’s house, not a pokey little place like the house on Henrietta
Street,” said Jane.
“We were glad
of a roof over our heads, and that Papa had bought the lease on it, so we only
had to find three pounds or so a year ground rent,” said Leontina. “I cannot think how we would have managed if
we had needed to rent a house. As it is, the rent we are getting from it is
quite a third each year what your poor father paid for the remaining seventeen
years of lease. I hope you are not going
to become spoilt now you have a new, wealthy Papa?”
Jane coloured.
“No, Mama,”
she said. “I was just thinking how
fortunate it was that we should not have to try to sleep three to a bed.”
“I see,” said
Leontina. “It would have been a squeeze,
I admit. Of course it will not be as
convenient for the lending libraries in .... dear me, we shall have to name the
place. I cannot and will not continue to call it Buckley’s house, for it is
ours now, and I have no intention of remembering that horrid little man.”
“Do not
exercise yourself over him, my dear,” said Edward Attwood. “We shall name it
something appropriate, and you girls can amuse yourselves on the journey coming
up with names. Diana, are you certain
you are happy to ride? It is quite one
hundred and three miles to Bath.”
“Oh! I dare say I shall be devilish sore, Papa,
but it seems most profligate to get yet another carriage just for one, when you
will be riding too, and then Mama and the others might be comfortable.”
Edward Attwood
had purchased a coach to bring luggage and a few servants with them, but had
placed his wife and their five combined younger daughters in the landau. It had been freshly polished, especially the
hood, in case of inclement weather, and was well-sprung and a comfortable ride.
“Well, you may
always sit on the seat with Dobbs for a stage or two if you need a rest,” said
Edward, nodding approval at his eldest.
“Or in the
coach with Fanshawe, Spencer and Fanny, and even leave my mare to be collected
by the grooms following with the other riding horses,” said Diana. “I’m not too proud to sit with our servants.
The only reason we are not some of us riding with them is so they can gossip
freely, isn’t it?”
Edward
laughed, and sighed.
“You are still
as forthright as ever, my love,” he said.
“And yes, it is politer to let them gossip about us, the new house and
so on. A couple of imperials on the roof
for our luggage at least give them plenty of room.”
“And Spencer
squeezing herself into one corner so as not to have to touch Fanshawe, in case
she catches romance from him,” giggled Jane, not squashed for long. Spencer was Leontina’s new dresser, and she
was something of an old maid by what appeared to be inclination, and Fanshawe,
Edward’s valet, did his best to shock her whenever he might. Fanny was his
sister, and only made half-hearted protest. Fanny’s friend, Kitty, had gone to
Leontina’s oldest daughter, Diana’s stepsister Elizabeth, when Elizabeth had
married her earl. Diana missed Elizabeth, although they had not been sisters
for long before Elizabeth had departed for her new home in Shrewsbury. Alexander, Lord Hawkesbury, had wanted to
show her off to his people.
“How far are
we riding at a time, Papa?” she asked.
“The horses
will need to rest every couple of hours if we are not to leave them and hire
post horses, I have no intention of
pushing them too hard,” said Edward. “I
have consulted ‘Cary’s Itinerary’ and ‘The Traveller’s Guide’ to plan the
route, and I thought you would like to push far enough on the first leg to
cross the county boundary into Buckinghamshire, and stop at one of the inns in
Colnebrooke. Cary lists the ‘George’, the ‘Red Lion’, the ‘Ostrich’ and the
‘Crown.’ Mr. Oulton mentions the ‘George’, the ‘White Hart’ and the ‘Wheel’. That will be a long leg, but we will do the
rest in ten to twelve mile stages, I think.
“Dear me, how
vexatious that they do not agree,” said Diana. “Other than on the ‘George’. Why
do you suppose that is?”
“Well, my
love, Cary concentrates on the coaching inns, so we may suppose that the ‘White
Hart’ and the ‘Wheel’ may be quieter, but perhaps less well set up for
receiving traffic and producing meals with some dispatch,” said Edward.
“Then we shall
stop at the ‘George’, it being agreed upon by both sources,” said Leontina, decisively. “I read the guides too. The Ostrich is one of the oldest inns in the
country and is probably too quaint to be comfortable.”
“Colnebrook is
just over sixteen miles away,” said Edward. “Can you manage that, Diana?”
“Of course,
Papa,” said Diana. “Lady Fair is raring to go, and she is fresh. She has the smoothest gait I’ve ever known,
and she can keep up a sort of loping canter forever.”
“Well I shan’t
be asking that of either of you!” laughed Edward. “It’ll be a shorter stage then to Maidenhead
where we will have a leisurely meal.
Reading is another short stage after that, and then I hope to push on to
stop overnight at Thatcham which has an inn called ‘The King’s Head’ which is
supposed to serve good food. Some stage
coaches stop to allow their passengers to eat, but not all, so it should not be
too busy.”
“Well, my papa
used to say that no plan, however good, survives past meeting the enemy,” said
Leontina. “Of course, I am not
suggesting that we meet any enemies, for the routes are well-travelled, and
there are almost no highwaymen nowadays, and of course one cannot consider the
inn servants as one’s enemies, nor indeed the open road ... where was I?”
“Trying to
explain why Papa’s plans might be set at naught by circumstances, Mama,” said
Flora.
“Oh, yes, so I
was,” said Leontina. “Because one can
make plans ever so carefully and then something unexpected happens, and we just
have to hope that whatever it is that happens is nothing drastic.”
“I have
‘Cary’s Itinerary’ and ‘The Traveller’s Guide’ in the landau, my love,” said
Edward. “And a piece of paper in the itinerary to show the road, and the
continuation page as well. Whatever
happens we can plan to meet it.”
“I am glad you
are so organised, my dear,” said Leontina. “I am not good at planning and with
servants and daughters there are so many things I worry about, like Diana’s
girth breaking and her falling off Lady Fair, or an axle breaking, and yes, I
do worry a bit about highwaymen, for Maidenhead Heath and the Downs near
Hungerford are very empty areas and the Downs are downright uncanny at times.”
“Oh, Mama, you
are thinking of that poor little baby who was burned to death by Wild Darrell
and him and his hounds still haunting the place,” said Jane.
“I wasn’t,
actually,” said Leontina. “But I shall now. I do wish you did not have a
penchant for ghoulish folk tales.”
“But it’s a
road just steeped in history, with the Druidical Temples of Avebury and the
Grey Wethers, and there’s even a place Henry VIII is supposed to haunt,” said
Jane
“Oh, what
nonsense,” said Flora. “Henry VIII had six wives, and if you think he has time
to haunt with them all bending his ear about what a bad husband he was, you
must have let your wits go begging.”
Jane took no
offence at this, as it was only Flora, and considered deeply.
“Mama, would
it be blasphemous to write an imagined conversation between Henry VIII and his
wives when he got to Heaven?” she asked. “If he did go to heaven,” she added,
doubtfully.
“He was a very
silly and most unpleasant man, but I don’t know that he was exactly evil, so I
would not like to think of him in Hell, well, I would not like to think of
anyone in Hell,” said Leontina. “Even Mr. Buckley, who is in Van Diemen’s land,
and what a shame it is that G-d does not have somewhere to transport people to
expiate their sins without being damned for eternity.”
“The Catholics
call that Purgatory,” said Catherine.
“Goodness, Mama, the thought of Mr. Buckley and Henry VIII together in
Van Diemen’s Land is quite horrifying.”
“Yes, isn’t
it?” said Leontina. “A pair of nasty mis
... whatever that word is for men who hate women.”
“Misogynist,”
supplied Minerva. “And I think Henry
VIII’s problem is that he liked them too well in the wrong way. Jane, I am sure that if Mama is happy to
think about Henry VIII being transported she will not take it amiss if you
write your imagined conversation.”
“But you must
remember to leave out the last one as she wasn’t dead,” said Leontina. “Imagination is all very well but right is
right.”
“One of the
Catherines,” said Anne, brightly.
Catherine
dissolved into tears.
“How would you
like your name being ‘one of’?” she sobbed.
“Well, I would
speak of ‘one of the Annes’,” said Anne. “I don’t mean anything about me with
that or anything about you with the Catherines.”
“Catherine,
that was over-sensitive,” said Leontina. “It was Catherine Parr.”
“Are we going
by Chippenham, or Devizes?” asked Jane, hastily, to divert the conversation.
“Chippenham,”
said Edward. “It goes by a route which is easier on the horses. The Bath mail
doesn’t care, it has six horses to a carriage in any case, and Devizes needs a
mail service, so the hills must be braved.”
It was not far
to Hyde Park, and through Kensington on the outskirts of the metropolis, and
then a couple of miles of countryside before reaching the town of
Hammersmith. And then Diana felt that
they were really on their way! She and her father cantered ahead and then
slowed to a walk to allow the Landau to catch up. Edward could have trotted with the posting, or
rising trot which was more restful for the horse, but he preferred to remain
with his daughter, and trotting in a sidesaddle was fatiguing for horse and
rider both.
The first
tollgate outside of London was at Smallbury Green, at Isleworth, and three
shillings and sixpence for the two vehicles and two riders. Diana was glad to
dismount to walk through the toll gate whilst the gatekeeper added up all the
fourpence-ha’pennies for the horses, and the 3d each for the riders. It was about half way to the first stage and
they had accomplished it in under the hour, but the next half stage would be
tiring. Her father tossed her up into
the saddle again once they had passed through the gate, and they set off once
more.
“At least it
is not too hot,” said Edward. “It is warm for September, but the weather is
quite pleasant. I am glad it is not too
dusty underfoot as it might have been; that would have been unpleasant.”
“Oh, I know
why,” said Diana. “Mama Leontina told me that ‘Beau’ Nash wished to encourage
people to go to Bath, so he paid to have pumps put in all along the road, every
two miles if you can believe it! And the
funds are there to pay for roadmen to water the roads for our convenience. Have you not noticed me tossing coins to
them?”
“I had, and
wondered why, but it is good to vail them for their efforts,” said Edward. “I should imagine they can make a reasonable
amount in vails if some people vail each.”
“It is all in
my accounts; I allowed two guineas for vails for the whole journey, in case of
needing to distribute higher largesse in inns,” said Diana. “I am giving each
of them two pence, which will cost me a little short of a pound, and well worth
it to encourage them to continue in their endeavours. I recall one of the girls at school used to
travel a lot, and she said you should vail the head porter at any coaching inn,
to make sure you are not fed on scraps from previous visitors, and so they
charge less for candles in your chamber.
She told me one woman who felt that servants should subsist on their
wages got charged five whole shillings for candles in her room at night in the
inn, and serve her right!”
“My goodness,
yes!” said Edward. “Look out!”
There was the
sound of the tantivy blown on a yard of tin behind them, and Edward and Diana
got off the road, looking back as their landau pulled well into the left to be
overtaken by the fast trotting hooves of the mailcoach.
“That must be
the London to Bath coach, it gets into Hounslow at twenty to ten, and it’s
hardly short of that now,” said Edward.
Diana laughed.
“Have you
learned Cary’s ‘Itinerary’ by heart, Papa?” she asked.
“Well, I might
have studied it carefully,” said Edward, sheepishly. “I find it exciting that one can set one’s
watch by the mail coaches, and I believe many villagers who have no church or
town clock do so!”
“I am looking
forward to breakfasting in Colnebrook, I have to say,” said Diana. “Early
mornings are all very well, but I like my breakfast at nine.”
“You were
eating apples before we left.”
“Yes; I knew I
would feel a need,” said Diana. “I don’t know how society ladies can bear to
not eat breakfast until after midday as a regular thing.”
“Probably
because it is as long after they have risen as it is for you when you have
risen,” said Edward. “And I am in
agreement with you, that the morning is the best time of the day, and that
there is something of a travesty in paying morning calls in the afternoon. And to be honest, if it were not for wanting
to establish you girls creditably, I would happily let the house in London long
term, and live in ... whatever we are going to call the house all the time. But
I won’t let you be done out of your seasons.”
“Oh, well, it
will not be long before you have managed to marry us all off,” said Diana. “Six
years before you can launch Anne, which is not so very long, really.”
“No, that’s
so,” said Edward. “I was thinking that ‘Pleiades House’ might be a
good name for the place, as it will have seven sisters, albeit stepsisters,
attached to it – for Elizabeth is your sister, even though she is married to
Hawkesbury.”
“Papa! What a
splendid idea!” said Diana, her eyes shining like the stars of the Pleiades
constellation. “You must tell Mama and the others!”
“I will
suggest it when we stop,” said Edward.
