Authors: The Companion
Ann Granger (3 page)
She was the last thing I took from the bag, or at least her likeness was. I held it in my hand and studied it. It was a little watercolour, oval in shape and measuring about six inches top to bottom and four at its widest. It was set in a frame of black velvet and I guessed it had been mounted in this way at her death. It had hung by my father’s bed. I had little memory of her. Not for the first time I wondered if I resembled her. The painter had made her eyes appear blue or grey. Mine were grey. Her hair was of a chestnut hue, but mine was quite dark brown. Mary Newling, our housekeeper, had told me that my father had never ‘got over losing the dear lady’. I quite believed it. Although he had been a man of even temper and kindly disposition, I had always sensed a sadness lurking behind every smile. I placed the portrait flat on the dressing table until such time as I should be able to hang it on the wall.
There were plenty of pictures hanging there already, as elsewhere in the house. At least I was spared hairy, long-horned Highland cattle, gazing at me in a purple mist. Instead there were more Italian views and a particularly dislikeable oil of a weeping figure, heavily draped, surrounded by dark trees and what appeared to be tombstones. At the first opportunity I would take that down and hide it.
I opened the japanned box and saw among my simple jewellery a small piece of grey shale. This was my talisman, given to me long ago to bring me luck. It was in its way a curiosity. Impressed in its surface was the delicate and exact outline of a tiny spray of
fern. I picked it out and turned it this way and that so that it caught the light, then I put it gently back. From now on, I would need to make my own luck to overcome any future obstacles. The first of these would be that very evening when I met the rest of the household.
fern. I picked it out and turned it this way and that so that it caught the light, then I put it gently back. From now on, I would need to make my own luck to overcome any future obstacles. The first of these would be that very evening when I met the rest of the household.
I sighed. I was so full of cake and muffins that I couldn’t imagine eating any more food that day. At home we had eaten our main meal of the day in the old-fashioned way at noon. This suited my father, who saw patients at his surgery in the mornings and drove out to visit his housebound patients in the afternoon, often not returning until late. We then ate a simple supper before the fire, generally toast and perhaps, if it were winter, some of Mary Newling’s robust soups of root vegetables in a beef stock. The thought of the ‘good English table’ which awaited tonight filled me with dread.
I also feared I’d appear a bumpkin, even in my best gown. But I was still wearing half-mourning for my father and that surely meant no one expected me to turn out looking like a fashion plate.
I took myself downstairs a little after seven. I had twisted my hair into a simple knot and draped a shawl of Nottingham lace around my shoulders over the bodice of the gown Nugent had returned beautifully pressed. For good or ill, I’d have to do. Early though I was, the other company was already assembled.
I found them in the main drawing room; of grander proportions than the small sitting room I’d seen earlier and finely furnished. Again, a splendid fire roared in the marble fireplace. Aunt Parry greeted me effusively. She was what Mary Newling would have described as a sight for sore eyes. Her silk gown was in one of the still-new colours, magenta. Her lace cap had been abandoned and her chestnut hair was dressed in an extraordinary style, a tribute to Nugent’s skills. It curled in a fat roll like a sausage to either side of her head above her temples, with a bunch of false
ringlets hanging down behind. From her earlobes dangled earrings with large green stones in them. A matching necklace and several bracelets added further decoration. I hoped all of these were paste and thought they must be. An Indian rajah would have been hard put to find so many emeralds if they were real.
ringlets hanging down behind. From her earlobes dangled earrings with large green stones in them. A matching necklace and several bracelets added further decoration. I hoped all of these were paste and thought they must be. An Indian rajah would have been hard put to find so many emeralds if they were real.
There were two gentlemen standing before the fireplace. They were deep in conversation as I entered but immediately turned to stare at me. The older one, on the right, stood with his foot on the brass fender and his right arm resting on the mantelshelf with its velvet and lace trim. The younger one, on the left, reflected his pose in reverse. It was impossible not to compare them with the pair of china King Charles spaniels on the mantelshelf behind them. The one on the right had been expounding some point and the other listening attentively. But now they fell silent as Aunt Parry presented me to them with:
‘Now, here is Elizabeth Martin, come to keep me company. She was Mr Parry’s god-daughter and her late father and Josiah were boyhood friends.’
There was no similarity between the two men now they had abandoned their pose at the fireplace. The older man was, I supposed, about sixty and must be Dr Tibbett. His thick silver-grey hair curled on his collar and with his luxuriant side-whiskers he made an imposing leonine figure. His dress was severely black and I remembered he was a clergyman.
The other, therefore, was Frank Carterton, the rising star of the Foreign Office. I reflected wryly that despite Mrs Parry’s statement that Frank, like me, had been left with nothing, our situations had turned out very different. I depended on the charity of Mrs Parry to employ me. Frank was able to make a career. I suspected, too, his aunt made him a generous allowance. He was dressed in a well-tailored black cutaway coat with swallowtails and a brocade waistcoat of exotic appearance. His black silk neckcloth was tied in a large bohemian bow. His hair was curled, I suspected with the aid of tongs, and he was undeniably a good-looking
young man. He ran his eye over me and I was unpleasantly reminded of the man at the railway terminus, who had appeared so briefly in the smoke and given me such a dismissive glance. It set me against him. Besides, I had never been able to abide dandies.
young man. He ran his eye over me and I was unpleasantly reminded of the man at the railway terminus, who had appeared so briefly in the smoke and given me such a dismissive glance. It set me against him. Besides, I had never been able to abide dandies.
Dr Tibbett, the clerical gentleman, was also studying me closely from top to toe and now spoke. ‘I hope you are a Christian young lady, Miss Martin.’
‘Yes, sir, to the best of my ability.’
Frank Carterton passed his hand over his mouth and turned his head aside.
‘Strong principles, Miss Martin, strong principles are what support us in times of need. You have lost your father, I believe. I hope you appreciate Mrs Parry’s good nature in offering you such a comfortable home.’
I did appreciate it and I’d already said so, to the lady herself. So I merely said, ‘Yes, of course I do!’
It came out sounding rather sharper than I’d have wished. Frank Carterton raised his eyebrows and favoured me with another and closer look.
‘And a humble spirit!’ said Dr Tibbett sternly.
‘Now then, Frank,’ interposed Mrs Parry a little nervously, ‘tell us what you have been doing today.’
‘Toiling at my desk, Aunt Julia. I have been responsible for the spoiling of large amounts of paper and the wasting of a great deal of ink.’
‘I’m sure you work very hard, Frank. You must not let them take advantage of your honest nature.’
‘The work is hardly strenuous, Aunt. I write a memo and send it to the next department, which writes another and sends it back to me. So we go on, back and forth, for the best part of the day like a party game of forfeits. The amusing part of it is, the departments lie adjacent to one another and any one of the clerks has but to leave his desk and put his head round the door of the
next room to make his enquiry. But that is not how government does things. I do have some news, as it happens,’ Frank added a little too carelessly.
next room to make his enquiry. But that is not how government does things. I do have some news, as it happens,’ Frank added a little too carelessly.
Aha! I thought. Whatever it is, his aunt will not like it.
‘As I’ve been explaining to Dr Tibbett, I have been told today that I am shortly to be sent to St Petersburg to join the staff of our embassy there.’
‘To Russia!’ cried Mrs Parry. Magenta silk rustled and green earrings bobbed, the light glittering on them and on the bracelets as she raised her plump white arms. The gesture might have looked theatrical if her horror had not been so obviously real.
‘It’s impossible. The climate is quite dreadful, months of snow, and the countryside full of wolves and bears and desperate Cossacks such as those who slaughtered our soldiers in the Crimea. The peasants are uncouth and drunken, disease is rife, and whatever will you do for entertainment?’
Carterton bent reassuringly over her. ‘I’ll do my best to keep clear of all of those. Don’t worry, Aunt, I do believe I shall be quite happily employed there. St Petersburg is a fine city with theatres and balls. I shan’t be put in the way of any peasants. The Russian gentry are most cultivated and, to a man and woman, all speak excellent French, or so I’m told.’
But Mrs Parry was not to be persuaded and although Dr Tibbett lent a hand to support Frank she was still bewailing his fate when Simms appeared to announce dinner. Dr Tibbett offered his arm to Mrs Parry and that meant that I, perforce, had to accept the arm Frank offered me.
‘Funny old stick, ain’t he?’ whispered Frank, nodding at Tibbett’s back, as the clergyman and Mrs Parry preceded us into the dining room. ‘Dines here twice a week, plays whist another two days and generally finds an excuse to call on the remaining days. You know what that means, don’t you?’
‘He is a friend of Mrs Parry,’ I muttered, wishing he would not
speak in this way, especially as there was a fair possibility he might be overheard.
speak in this way, especially as there was a fair possibility he might be overheard.
‘Don’t take fright,’ he returned, guessing what was in my mind. ‘Old Tibbett never hears any voice but his own. It’s my belief he is courting Aunt Julia. Good luck to him!’ And Frank chuckled though quite what was so funny I had no way of knowing.
‘When do you leave for Russia, Mr Carterton?’
‘Ouch! Not yet awhile. Sorry. Have I offended you? I hoped you’d be a much better sport than Maddie. When you practically bit off Tibbett’s head back there I had the highest hopes of you. Don’t let me down, Miss Martin, please!’
He rolled his eyes at me comically.
I was not amused but I was intrigued. Who was Maddie? Annoyingly, now that I had a question to put to him, we had reached the dining room and I would have to wait.
It was soon apparent that Dr Tibbett’s booming voice would dominate the dinner table as he began to give us his opinions on every topic of the day. Frank had the knack of saying just enough to keep Tibbett going and Mrs Parry accepted every word with rapt respect. Remembering Frank had told me the gentleman dined here twice a week and visited frequently, my heart sank. As Mrs Parry had expressed the hope I would be a good conversationalist, I took the first opportunity offered to enter the talk myself and asked Dr Tibbett if, by chance, he held a living in the area.
But I learned Dr Tibbett, apart from a brief stint as an assistant curate after he had been ordained, had never been a parish priest. He had spent almost his entire life as a schoolmaster, indeed as a distinguished headmaster. If he’d had no influential patron to further his career as a parson, then to turn to another calling had probably been wise. An ill-paid curate without hope of a living was little better than a poor relation like me. But a headmaster in a good school is a person of standing, requiring of respect. It certainly explained one thing: where he had acquired his hectoring
manner. He addressed us as he would have done a captive audience of small boys.
manner. He addressed us as he would have done a captive audience of small boys.
He now set about putting me in my place for having dared to interrupt his flow. ‘I hope, Miss Martin, that you will adapt to the ways of this household and be everything that Mrs Parry requires of you.’
‘I shall do my very best,’ I promised.
‘You will be aware,’ he went on, bending a ferocious eye on me, ‘that the dear lady had already suffered one great disappointment.’
I was alarmed because I couldn’t think what I had done, in the short time I had been in the house, to offend my benefactress.
But Frank spoke up quickly, saying, ‘Dr Tibbett doesn’t mean in your respect, Miss Martin.’
Mrs Parry was looking confused. She dropped the fork with which she had been dissecting a piece of turbot and mopped her mouth with her napkin. ‘I had not actually mentioned the wretched business to Miss Martin, I’m afraid. I thought tomorrow …’
‘Ah,’ said Dr Tibbett, not a whit discountenanced at having put his foot in it, in the common parlance. ‘Awkward explanations are never easier for being delayed.’
‘No, indeed,’ stammered poor Mrs Parry.
Frank moved in to take charge of the conversation. From his look I guessed he was displeased at Dr Tibbett’s reproachful tone towards his aunt.
‘See here,’ he said. ‘It’s not a secret and, well, not such a scandal. It’s like this, Miss Martin. There was someone before you who held the post of companion to Aunt Julia. Her name was Maddie Hexham.’
‘Miss Madeleine Hexham,’ said Dr Tibbett testily. He was taking badly to having his thunder stolen. ‘A young person from the provinces, from the North, as are you, Miss Martin.’
‘She came excellently recommended,’ said Mrs Parry rather pathetically, I thought. ‘With references from a friend of Mrs Belling.’
‘Living in London,’ said Dr Tibbett, fixing a direct gaze on me, ‘was not what she was used to. To her inexperience of a large city and its temptations were added her own lamentable weakness of character and, we have to say, a certain talent to deceive. No doubt that is how she gained her excellent references. By dissembling, ma’am! By dissembling!’
‘The fact of the matter is,’ Frank said loudly, ‘Miss Hexham disappeared from this house without a word of warning and no one has seen her since. Didn’t take a thing with her and at first we all thought she had met with some accident. We informed the local police. Much they did about it. However, as things turned out, we needn’t have bothered.’
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