The Parson's Pleasure Read online

  When Lady Sitchville left the Olivers’ side to welcome more guests, they were joined by Mr. Bennett. He had seen them enter and had waited only for them to be greeted to approach them. Lord Oliver and Lady Sally received him with their customary pleasure, but Claire, though pleased to see him, merely smiled. The rector addressed his remarks to Claire's father, but his eyes avoided Claire's with difficulty.

  “Dare I ask you, Lord Oliver, your impressions of the renovations?” he asked, barely suppressing a smile.

  Claire's father was sympathetic enough with the rector's sentiments to answer sincerely, “When I heard that Sitch had fortified his manor, it alarmed me. I was not sure that I was up to mounting an attack on a well-fortified castle at my age. But now that I see the back side of the house, I am comforted that I will be able to manage it."

  Mr. Bennett smiled in appreciation. “You don't have any plans yourself for a ‘castellation’ of the Oliver manor?"

  “No,” said the baron in mock seriousness. “As I explained to you before, I am getting too old for anything so adventurous. But perhaps Robert would be interested in some such thing for the cottage. I'll have to ask him."

  Claire and her mother joined Mr. Bennett in laughter over this, but they had to stop when Lord Babcock joined them. It was time to be seated for breakfast, and he had come to lead Claire to his table. As Claire accepted his arm, she could feel Mr. Bennett's eyes following them. In place of the embarrassment she had felt on similar occasions, there was a heaviness in her heart.

  Babcock led her to the table where an elaborate array of foods had been laid out. She had her choice of hot or cold breads, white or dark, cold meats of all kinds, honey and cakes, and chocolate to drink, before being led to the dais at the end of the room and seated at the principal table.

  It was not many minutes before Claire noticed a difference in Babcock's manner towards her. He was polite as usual, but there were none of the meaningful looks, the fulsome compliments, and the lingering touches of her hand that she had grown to anticipate with such distaste. She might have been any distant acquaintance, except for the necessary assumption which had brought him to her side. It was a welcome change and made her think that she just might enjoy the afternoon before her, but she was curious all the same. If Babcock was going to change the behaviour he had exhibited towards her for almost five years now, there must be good reason for it.

  His lack of attention, however, allowed her mind to drift in the direction it was pulling her. She had seen Mr. Bennett seat himself in front of her, choosing the chair that faced her directly. He was making polite conversation with the young lady on his right, but occasionally he lifted his eyes to look at Claire. She felt very awkward at those moments to be caught watching him, and yet she found it difficult to keep her eyes averted from that spot. It was, she told herself, because he was straight in front of her that the difficulty existed.

  She turned abruptly towards Babcock after one of these moments and launched into a new conversation, trying to take her mind off the incident.

  “Tell me, Lord Babcock, have you had the chance to be presented to my cousin Lydia? “

  Claire was astonished by his reaction to this random attempt at conversation. Babcock seemed to gasp, which caused him to choke on the piece of food that was in his mouth. At the same instant, he looked sideways at her with alarm. It took many minutes before his coughing subsided, during which he became quite red in the face. When he was finally able to regain some of his composure, he said in a croaking voice, with still a touch of alarm in his eyes, “What was it that you asked me, Miss Oliver?"

  Almost afraid to set him off again, Claire replied carefully, “It was merely a passing thought. I wondered if you had had an opportunity to meet my cousin, Lydia Willoughby. She was not ‘out’ when you were home last, I believe."

  The alarm in Babcock's eyes receded slowly, and he answered with an air of nonchalance. “Yes, I believe I have had the pleasure. Your Aunt and Uncle Willoughby's daughter, is she not? We have not had much occasion to speak, though,” he added hastily.

  Claire had been absorbed in her own affairs, but Babcock's manner was strange enough to alert her to something. She began to wonder if she had not stumbled across the answer to his change towards herself. She watched Babcock throw a furtive glance at a corner of the room, saw that Lydia was seated there, and knew that he had long been aware of it.

  “She is charming, isn't she?” Claire asked innocently.

  Babcock stumbled over his words in replying, “Yes, certainly ... that is, I hadn't noticed particularly ... although naturally she would be, being your cousin.” He smiled as though pleased with his answer.

  “She is by nature a very sweet girl,” Claire continued. “She is very devoted to her mama and to projects of an improving nature. At the same time, you can see that she is quite fashionable and very lovely.” As Claire continued to describe Lydia in this complimentary fashion, she was amused to notice the changes in Babcock's expression. He began with a studied air of indifference, but as his eyes necessarily rested on Lydia, he seemed unable to school his features, and a lost, rather dreaming look came over them. When Claire stopped speaking, he did not appear to notice the silence.

  She took advantage of the fact to turn her notice back to the room at large, a broad smile on her face.

  Mr. Bennett had been observing Claire and Babcock in conversation, obviously in agreement over something. He was too absorbed by his own feelings to notice the direction of Babcock's gaze, and only saw the pleasure on Claire's face. He tried to conceal the frustration and anger that mounted in him by turning to the guest on his right, but he alarmed that young lady nonetheless by the heavy frown on his brow.

  Claire caught the movement of his head as she turned, but was not certain he had been looking in her direction. The sight of him caused the smile on her face to disappear and the feeling of heaviness to descend on her chest again. She shook herself reproachfully and told herself that she was behaving foolishly, but to little avail.

  Shortly thereafter, Lady Sitchville signaled to her steward, who moved to speak to several of the guests, mostly the local contingency, while she herself rose from her chair to join this eager group at one of the side doors of the hall in order to begin the tour. The house guests, who had already had a chance to see the renovations, were left to their own amusements. Lord Babcock turned to Claire and said that he would be happy to be her escort on the tour. Claire would have preferred to walk with her father so as not to miss his caustic comments, but it could not be helped. She resigned herself to waiting until she and her parents were home again before hearing them.

  As she and Lord Babcock joined Lady Sitchville, a small parade of other guests formed behind them. Lydia and her mother approached the group at the same time as Mr. Bennett, and so the rector offered an arm to each lady and placed himself directly behind Claire and Babcock. He would have been quite surprised to know how uncomfortable they were both rendered by this act.

  “I am happy to see you all here today,” began Lady Sitchville importantly. “You are very kind to show an interest in our house. I will not take you all over it, of course, but we will see as much as you would like. And perhaps the young people will continue to the stables afterwards to see the changes there. My son can take you, but it would be too much for all of us, I think. Now. Let us start with the drawing room."

  She led them into a feminine-looking room of which she was obviously proud. The furniture was delicate and made of rosewood with silk and chintz upholstery. Large mirrors in gilt frames covered the walls. Like the entire manor, the room was lit by enormous oil lamps, hung from the ceiling. Lady Sitchville pointed out the evidence of hot-air heating, never before seen in the county, which had been installed throughout the house.

  “The one exception will be in my rooms, and Lord Sitchville's, where we have put in a type of steam heating,” she explained. “We wanted to try it, but we felt it was simply too new an invention to risk put
ting throughout the house. Though I do know,” she added as an afterthought, “that the Prince Regent has used it in the kitchens at Brighton.” There was a general hum of admiration.

  She then led them into the dining room, which was off the great hall. It was very masculine in character, with heavy carved wood paneling and massive mahogany furniture. Rich Turkish carpets covered the floor. The furniture had an air of permanence, and the profuse use of English oak on the walls conveyed the same sense of strength and stability as the three paneled walls of the great hall.

  There was a serving room off the dining room where the food could be kept heated after its long trek from the kitchens. From there a dark passage snaked its way back to the servants’ quarters, but Lady Sitchville avoided this and ushered her guests towards the conservatory, which seemed designed to hide the servants’ wing from the rest of the house. Located at the back corner of the main section of the house, it protruded far from the body of the house and seemed to be made entirely of large plates of glass.

  Claire recalled that the library of the old manor, which had always interested her father, had been in the part of the house now completely taken up by the great hall. The same thought must have been in her father's mind, for when they had finished seeing the common rooms on the right side of the house he asked about it.

  “Oh, yes,” answered Lady Sitchville in a dismissive tone, “the library. Well, as rooms go, I suppose it was very nice in its way, but we decided the space could be better devoted to the hall. We will have writing tables in it and the billiard table, and use it in that way when we are not entertaining. Sitchville, of course, has his study on the other side of the hall, with his own bath and water closet. You will think it strange,” she added with a titter of laughter, “but I must show you the water closet. It has been so cleverly hidden in a cupboard behind the wood paneling. One would never know it was there."

  The entire party crossed the great hall once more and entered Lord Sitchville's set of apartments. The masculine character of the dining room was repeated here, with more oak paneling and heavily carved desk, chairs and bookcases. The books that the Olivers remembered were not in evidence, however, and the room seemed fitted only as a morning room for the gentlemen and for Lord Sitchville's estate business.

  Lord Oliver became irritated, and he turned to speak to his wife in a low tone. “I wonder if I dare ask what has become of the books. I would like to acquire them if they haven't been thrown out as jettison. Do you think that I would be thought a bit out of date?"

  Lady Sally only smiled wryly at him and patted his hand.

  Lady Sitchville, meanwhile, was guiding the group into her husband's other rooms, showing them the water closet, so carefully hidden, and his bath, with gilded washstand, dressing stand, gilded basin and ewers.

  “My apartments are just above,” she explained proudly. “The water is pumped directly upstairs from here to my bath and the housemaids’ closet. The hot and cold water are separate. My bath is off my dressing room, of course, and is similarly decorated. My husband, as you can see, decided to install a shower bath for himself."

  As if finished with the tour, she began to lead everyone back to the hall, only to be stopped by Lady Sally. “Theresa,” she asked, “you might not care to show us, but I declare that I am very curious to see the kitchens and the servants’ quarters. Would you mind?"

  Lady Sitchville feigned uncertainty at first, as if the proposal made her uncomfortable, but in fact she was extremely proud of the quarters. She simply did not want to make a display of this pride to her guests. Modesty, after all, was a virtue. So, keeping up her pretense, she agreed to Lady Oliver's request with an air of daring. The group traipsed back across the hall and entered the dark corridor to the kitchens. Claire could hear behind her the affected tittering of the ladies, who were acting as though a visit to the servants’ quarters was a bit shocking, even though all of these women had houses much smaller, where servants were stationed in the entrance hall and the mistress made daily trips to the kitchen. Hearing her Aunt Sophia's laugh among them, she wondered what Mr. Bennett was thinking of it all.

  The many turns and twists in the hall, purposely created to prevent odours from the kitchen from reaching the main part of the house, were carefully negotiated by the ladies in their long skirts. The first set of rooms they came to were the steward's room and its satellites: the butler's pantry with the plate storage safe, the scullery, the wine cellars, and cells for brushing clothes, cleaning shoes, polishing knives, and trimming, cleaning and filling oil lamps. The steward's room was enormous, providing as it did the dining room for the steward, the housekeeper, the head cook, head gardener, senior ladies’ maids, valets, coachman, and visiting servants in a house that routinely employed more than forty indoor servants.

  A staircase rose steeply from this part of the wing. Lady Sitchville mentioned significantly that this led to the male servants’ dormitory.

  The group then passed into the main servants’ hall where the lower-echelon servants ate their meals. Located here also were the bells, labeled for each room in the house, so that servants could remain in their quarters and yet respond quickly to the masters’ requests. This provided a privacy from the servants that smaller houses did not have, and many of the guests regarded it enviously. The kitchen lay beyond, along with the housekeeper's room and its satellites, rooms for housekeeping functions performed by female servants.

  A separate staircase led from the kitchen up to the female servants’ dormitory. Lady Sitchville explained quite proudly and self-righteously, “The servants’ wing has been designed to keep the male and female servants apart as much as possible, and with these staircases, the only time they need be in the same room is when they have their meals."

  Claire cringed on hearing this speech, and behind her she heard Mr. Bennett clear his throat. She darted a look at the footman who had accompanied the group to open doors for them, but his face was impassive. No doubt he was used to being embarrassed, being a part of this household, but she wondered how he felt about being discussed in such a way.

  The furthermost part of the house, which gave access to the yards, was not explored. When asked about it, Lady Sitchville dismissed it as the laundry and of little interest, so they turned back and made their way once again to the great hall. Here, Lady Sitchville suggested to the older guests that they remain with her, and to the younger that they follow Lord Babcock outside to see the stables.

  Claire would rather have remained inside at this point, but unsure how to suggest it, she walked through the double glass doors on Babcock's arm. As Sophia stayed behind with the others, Lydia was left to accept Mr. Bennett's lone escort. The pair followed closely on Claire's and Babcock's heels.

  Claire and Babcock passed the time discussing the changes to the house, though both were uncomfortably aware of the implications of such a topic. It became a strained conversation, with Claire taking pains to show no more than polite interest and Babcock trying to make it clear by his tone of voice that Claire's opinion of the manor was of little interest to him.

  Behind them, Mr. Bennett and Lydia were silent. The rector found it difficult to converse with Lydia at the best of times, but even the subject of the house did not draw her out today, though she was clearly impressed. After a few futile attempts, he gave up and instead followed the conversation in front of him, not liking the sound of it, for he missed the undertones.

  The stables were soon reached, and they saw that the Gothic-castle theme had been repeated, though to a lesser extent. There were more Gothic arches for doorways, and the same stone was used, but inside it was much like any other large stable. They continued in to see Sarravano, the pride of the Sitchvilles’ stable, their hope to win the Derby.

  Stationed at the horse's head was a small, sharp-featured man, with eyes that darted about quickly as he bowed his head respectfully to Lord Babcock. Claire identified him as Tucker, the trainer who had so impressed her Uncle Robert, and she took a rare
and instant dislike to him. There was something about the way his eyes seemed to be constantly shifting—especially when Babcock was not observing him—that she found dishonest and repugnant. She suddenly felt anxious about this man's influence over her uncle.

  Lord Babcock proudly presented his horse to the assembly, “Ladies and gentlemen, the next winner of the Derby!"

  “What about that colt of Sir George's?” asked one of the guests. “Won't he present a problem?"

  Babcock brushed this aside confidently. “Magnifico may be a fine horse,” he granted, “but he does not pose a challenge to this one."

  “How do they bet their money at Tattersall's?” asked another.

  “I have been assured,” replied Babcock, “that it goes heavily in our favour."

  After a little more in this vein, the viscount moved on to discuss the points of yet another colt with one of his guests. When the party had entered the stables, they had dropped their two-by-two formation to wander about singly and look at the various horses, forming new groups casually as they strolled. Mr. Bennett gravitated unconsciously towards Claire, who was chatting with other guests, though with no one in particular.

  Left to herself, Lydia wandered over to Sarravano, trying to see what was so special about the animal, knowing there must be something because Lord Babcock had said so. She was uncomfortable around horses, not knowing how to ride, but she was certain she should have an interest in anything that interested him.

  Tucker was still at the horse's head. He knew this young lady was Robert Willoughby's daughter, because he had seen them out together one day, but Lydia was quite unaware of the amount of time her father spent with Tucker in the stable. The trainer had little respect for Robert, thinking him a gullible fool, and his disrespect overflowed into his behaviour with Lydia. He knew that he had nothing to fear from her father.