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“If I may suggest…” James said tentatively. “Everyone in town has a great variety of acquaintances, and they are not all invited to the same events. Mrs Fletcher might arrange a musical soirée, perhaps, for the more sophisticated of your acquaintances, and an informal card party for old friends like the Malpases. That way, there is no slight to anyone, but one is not obliged to introduce an importer of rugs to a marquess.”
“There now, Mrs Fletcher,” Pa said. “That is the way to do it.”
“That is all very well, but how are we ever to know any marquesses?” she said fretfully. “We shall not know a soul from good society, and how we are to meet anyone is more than I can say.”
“You once said to me, Lizzie, that Rosie would only have to drive through Hyde Park at the fashionable hour,” Pa said. “She’d turn heads wherever she goes, you said, and we’ve ordered the carriage for it already. What is it we’ve ordered, Will?”
“A barouche, and very fine Rosie and her mama will look in it too, with their new bonnets and parasols.”
“Is that true, Mr Plummer?” Pa said. “Will a drive through Hyde Park turn heads?”
James glanced at the blushing Rosie, and smiled. “Indeed it will. I have no doubt that Miss Fletcher and Miss Angela will attract a veritable deluge of admirers and each will be able to find one amongst them who makes her smile. For that is surely the real objective, is it not? For your daughters to be happy, whomsoever they choose to marry?”
Rosie smiled tremulously up at him, as Pa robustly said that of course it was, and no one was going to force Rosie to marry anyone she disliked. Even Mama looked a little happier, although she still had a tiny crease of worry on her forehead. Poor Mama! She’d been so keen to meet Lord Charles’s brother, and now it looked as though there would be no marquesses on the guest list. But for the rest of the family, there was nothing but pleasure to be anticipated in London.
For Julia, London was of little interest. She would spend a week there being fitted for her wedding clothes, but otherwise she would be at home, the mornings spent in long, rambling walks with James, evenings at the Park or the Manor, and in a few weeks, she would be married and move into her new home.
She could hardly wait.
~~~~~
A few days later, Julia and Aunt Madge spent a whole day at the rectory, notebook in hand, determining what needed to be done. Aunt Madge was disposed to disapprove of every element of the rectory, from the smoking kitchen chimney to the cobwebby attics, and all points in between. Looking around the drawing room, she grudgingly admitted that some of the furniture was of good quality.
“No worm, anyway,” she muttered. “I should have expected a great deal of worm, but there, it seems Mr James has been lucky. You will have to find a housemaid who knows her trade, not these local women. Someone who has been properly trained. The Pound women are all very well for two bachelors, but it will not do for you. Make a note of that — housemaid. What do we have so far?”
“Housekeeper, footman, a halfway competent cook, a housemaid.”
“Gardener,” Aunt Madge said, looking disdainfully out of the window. “One armed principally with a scythe and pruning shears.”
“Gardener,” Julia repeated dutifully, writing it down.
“Lady’s maid, of course, but Lizzie will find someone for you in London.”
“Lady’s maid. I suppose we can leave James to decide on grooms.”
“Who attends to the horses at present?”
“Lightwood, his valet. And Mr Leadbetter, I suspect. He does everything else around here, why not stable work as well?”
“Hmpf. But there will be carriage horses as well, so you will need a proper groom, to act as coachman as well. Add it to the list, Julia.”
The knocker sounded on the front door. Julia made a move to answer it, but Aunt Madge said, “Wait for one of the servants, dear.”
“But Lightwood is in the stable, Janet has gone to Ware to shop and Mrs Pound is making pastry.”
Aunt Madge harrumphed, but made no further protest as Julia went to open the door. It was Sir Owen Plummer.
“Good morning, future Papa-in-law! I’m afraid James isn’t here just now.”
Sir Owen’s face creased into a most unaccustomed smile. “Good morning, future daughter-in-law. Is he expected home soon?”
“I believe so. He has gone out with Mr Leadbetter to call on the old lady at the Kelshaw home farm who is like to die at any moment, and then Mr Hasswell at St Agnes, who has a fever.”
“Ah. Unfortunately, he will arrive too late to do more than say a prayer over the poor man’s body. He died in the night, as I have just had word.”
“Oh dear. Will you come in, sir? My aunt is here.”
“By all means. I had best wait for James, to make sure he knows. It is unexpected, for Hasswell was younger than I am, but there, we never can tell when our time is up.”
