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“Snowdrops already,” Julia said. “So early!”
“Aye, the climate’s milder this far south,” Pa said. “Ah, there’s the gate now. What a strange lodge that is, built like a Roman arch, yet people live in it. Which way shall we turn? Clockwise or widdershins?”
“Clockwise,” they said, in unison.
A narrow track led off the drive, weaving in and out of stands of trees. A high wall separated them from the hamlet of Danes Green, although the spire of the parish church was visible, and smoke rose from several chimneys. In the still air, a cockerel crowed nearby, and a door banged. The distant clang of metal on metal suggested that the smith, at least, was already hard at work. After a short distance, the woods thickened and the village was lost to view.
Before long, they emerged into a clearing, frightening away a pair of deer. They had reached a corner of the estate, where a moss-covered wall rose to a height of some ten feet, with a door of wood and metal set in it.
“Where does that lead, do you suppose?” Johnny said. “Shall we look and see?” He turned the huge twisted metal ring to lift the latch and the door creaked open. Stepping through, he said, “We are just beyond the village. I can see the first houses. Pa, what is the house opposite? There are two very fine gateposts and a cosy little lodge. Nothing like as ostentatious as our fancy affair.”
They all followed him onto the road. The gateposts were very fine indeed, made of bricks fitted in such a way that the pattern spiralled around and upwards. Ivy obscured the lower parts, but Julia marched across the road, and pulled at leaves and stems until she could read the name picked out in differently coloured bricks.
“It is Chadwell Manor,” she called out. The ancestral home of the Plummer family, and their home again, now that they had sold Chadwell Park to the Fletchers.
The others followed her across the road and peered through the gates. And there it was, not a hundred yards away, its rows of fine Tudor chimneys all smoking vigorously.
“I wagertheyhave plenty of hot water,” Will muttered.
“You can ask them this afternoon when you see them for the shooting,” Pa said genially.
“Will the whole family be there?” Julia said. “Maybe you’ll meet my gamekeeper.”
“Maybe we will,” Pa said. “And maybe he’ll dress like a gentleman this time, eh? Then we’ll be able to recognise him.” He chuckled good-humouredly.
“I think Sir Owen said it would just be himself and his elder son,” Will said.
“Ah, well, we shall meet your gamekeeper some other time, puss,” Pa said.
“Tomorrow, I expect,” she said. “These southern folks aren’t such heathens as not to go to church, are they? So you’ll see him in church tomorrow morning, and he may even look like a gentleman.”
~~~~~
‘To Miss Jupp, St Peter’s Road, Sagborough, West Riding. My dear Belinda, How clever of Ricky to suggest sending a letter at once, for there it was waiting for me the moment I arrived! Oh, but it made me weep just a little to remember you and Ricky, my two dearest friends in the whole world, after my own family of course. First of all, be assured that we are all well. Dreadfully fatigued after the long journey, of course, for five days in a carriage, be it ever so comfortable, is bound to leave one a little pulled. Mama is in heaven, for the house is just as she hoped. Oh, I must describe it to you, so that you will know just how we have risen in the world, to live in such a palace. The entrance to the grounds is marked by a great stone arch not unlike Micklegate Bar, but very Greek, with pillars and a big triangle over the top, which is a pediment, Miss Crabtree told us later. It is big enough to live in, for the gatekeeper and all his family came out to make their courtesies. Then a curving drive lined with trees and a bridge across a lake, and then the house. Oh, Belinda, you cannot imagine how enormous it is! It has only two stories, not counting the attics and basement, but it seemed to stretch to the skies, and there are statues even on the roof, if you can imagine such a thing! It presents a very long face, with a multitude of windows, and then to either side and a little offset are two wings, one the kitchens and the other the stables. In front, there are two sets of steps to each side, very square, not curving at all. I do not think you can imagine all this from such a description, so I shall try to make drawings to send to you, just as soon as I can find my sketchbook. And then inside, everything is so fine and decorated - nothing is left plain at all. If there is a patch of ceiling or wall not used for any function, then it must be covered in latticework or swags of carved foliage or fruit or some other design. It is all very overpowering, and the ceilings so high and far away that one feels like a little mouse creeping about in the undergrowth in a great forest. And the worst of it is that everyone else seems to like it, or else, like Julia, doesn’t care. Even Aunt Madge grudgingly admits that her room is commodious and well-appointed, and you know how little she approves of anything as a rule. So I am alone in hating it all. Perhaps that is too strong a sentiment, brought on only by missing you, my dearest friend. I feel very alone here without you. I have covered two sheets already and dare not impose any further costs on your long-suffering Pa, so I will stop now, and write more very soon. My dearest regards to you and toallyour family. Pray give Ricky my sincerest thanks for urging you to write so soon. Your letter cheered me vastly. Your most affectionate and rather lonely friend, Rosie.’
4: Sunday
For the first time in his life, James looked forward to the Sabbath with genuine enthusiasm, and he knew precisely the reason why — he would see Miss Julia Fletcher again. He had met hundreds of society misses over the years, and every single one of them had bored him to tears. Until now. Far from boring him, she had made him smile… no,laugh, and he could hardly wait to see her again at church and observe her reaction to discovering that he was the rector, exactly the person she had said it would be her fate to marry.
How funny that was! And yet, perhaps it was prophetic, too. James had never had the least desire to marry, for surely marriage would be even more boring than bachelorhood, but to marry someone like Julia… that would be different. She would make him smile every day, he was convinced of it. He would never be bored with someone like that.
James would never be accounted a dandy, preferring comfort to fashion, but today he dressed with a little more care than usual. He took pains with his cravat, and rummaged through a drawer of muddled oddments for a pin suitable for the occasion. Then he donned his surplice and made his way to the church.
“Great heavens, James, whatever has happened?” Thomas Leadbetter, his curate, cried out when he saw him. “Is your clock running fast? Are you ill? We are not at all prepared, for there is a quarter hour yet before Frye even begins to ring the bell, and you are not usually looked for until some time after he has stopped, you know.”
James chuckled. “Let me be piously punctual, for once, Thomas. I am sure such an event will not recur. Where is everyone? I had expected the church to be filling somewhat by now.”
“Our parishioners prefer to have an extra hour in bed than to sit on hard pews for that time awaiting your presence, and who can blame them?”
“Am I so very slipshod, Thomas? Am I thoroughly despised for my lackadaisical ways?”
“Not in the least. You are very well liked, James, for your sermons are commendably short, although if the service commences more than an hour late, folk do get restless for their breakfast, you know.”
“Promptness and short sermons. Very well. I shall try to do better on the former point. Do you think my congregation will arrive soon? I shall stand at the door to welcome them as they arrive, I believe.”
“Have you smelling salts at the ready? They will be so astonished to see you that—”
“Yes, yes, you have made your point, you dreadful fellow. I am not at all sure why I suffer your impertinence, Thomas Leadbetter.”
