Clarissa and the Poor Relations (5 page)

‘Well.’ said Miss Micklethwaite, noticing that Clarissa’s brave smile was failing under this depressing list, ‘There’s no call to scare us to death on our first night, Sullivan. Miss Clarissa will give orders in the morning.’

‘Yes, ma’am. I beg your pardon. Might I just say, Mr Elfoy the agent for the estate begged leave to visit you tomorrow, Miss Clarissa? He said it was urgent, ma’am, but I will deny you if you wish.’

Clarissa who was looking a trifle worn out by the dawning of her new responsibilities said, ‘No Sullivan, quite right. We must begin as soon as is possible.’  Quite suddenly overcome, she began to cry.

Sullivan drew tactfully from the room, cursing himself silently for failing to perceive how overwhelming this house must be for such a very young lady and resolving to be careful in future.

‘Take her to bed, Louisa She’s knocked out and it is not to be wondered at,’ said the eldest of the ladies.

‘Indeed I’m all right, Waity, I cannot imagine…,’ said Clarissa; the tears coursing down her cheeks.

‘No indeed, dear,’ cooed Miss Appleby, drawing her forward and putting her arm around her waist. ‘Nothing that a little sleep won’t cure. Come with me, now dear.’ And she drew her up towards the stairs.

Miss Petersham turned to her companion, ‘Oh, Waity, it is easy to forget that Clarissa is such a young girl. Losing her mamma so soon after her father’s death - it’s no wonder that this now should overwhelm her. She is such a redoubtable girl that she will no doubt seem fine in the morning but we must watch her carefully.’

‘Indeed,’ said Miss Micklethwaite, ‘She will feel better when we start to
do
something. Do you know, apart from not being able to face life with her prosy brother and his cooing little wife, I think it’s the doing that Clarissa craves. She
needs
this place so that she does not dwell on those subjects that depress her spirits. In that she’s her mother’s daughter. She’ll come about.’

‘Yes, all of us need that,’ Oriana took a turn about the room. ‘We’re freaks you know, Waity .All of us, except poor Appleby, perhaps. We are freaks of nature who would dare question the will of the men whose position it is to guide us. Some women would have taken the curate’s offer, or at least waited until a better one arrived; but the cast of our minds being as they are we can allow no man to rule without respect. At least here we should be free of those who would blight us with their attentions.’

‘Well, as to that my dear, I have seldom been blighted by a man’s attentions,’ said Miss Micklethwaite mildly, ‘but I am glad, in theory, to be free of it.’ Oriana smiled at this, but still looked tired. Her friend drew her from the room gently. ‘Time for bed before you work yourself into just such a state as Clarissa.’

Clarissa awoke the next morning to the sight of a slight young girl wearing a cap, brown dress and apron pulling open the window drapes and letting the early sunlight seep over her counterpane.

‘But who are you?’ said Clarissa sitting up.

‘Why, your lady’s maid Becky, if it please you, miss,’ she replied and bustled forward with a shawl for Clarissa’s shoulders and a cup of chocolate into her hands. ‘Mr Sullivan employed me from the village, miss, seeing as how you had to leave your maid behind. I’ve not all the experience that you might like miss - this is a step up for me, you might say - but I can dress hair and I’m clever with a needle.’ Becky’s round face looked a trifle anxiously at Clarissa.

‘I’m sure of that.’ said Clarissa, ‘Thank you Becky, you can go now, I’ll dress myself this morning.’ Becky looked disappointed, but bobbed a curtsy and departed.

As she settled back on the bank of feather pillows sipping her coffee, Clarissa thought that she had never known such luxury. Her bed was big enough for a cavalry regiment to sleep in and was moreover hung with straw coloured silk. Her room was enormous, so it seemed to her, and was appointed with elegant furniture. She guessed this to have been her aunt’s room and her silver backed brush set still adorned the dressing table with its exquisite French mirror. That the maid was an elegance Sullivan had required to add to her consequence in the neighbourhood was something she did not doubt; but it was a welcome luxury. Well it was time to start her day as lady of the manor. Almost at variance with this thought was that she put on her oldest grey dress.

The ladies cried out at her appearance, but Clarissa only said ‘There’s a great deal of work to be done and I don’t mean to spoil my dresses’

And so it was that as she was unpacking their cherished books in the library, Mr Elfoy found her.

That gentleman had come to the house, but on passing the library windows on route to the front doors, he had heard a shriek and entered. He found a young girl in a shabby grey gown and apron holding her toe and hopping about the room. She heard him laugh and looked around.

She saw a young man of devastating attractiveness. He was tall and of athletic build and his rich chestnut hair, though severely brushed from his noble forehead, was a riot of curls, one having escaped across his brow in a way that drew the eye to his laughing eyes. These were of a velvet autumnal colour, with lashes that would be the envy of most young ladies. The draw of his eyes was such that Clarissa hardly noticed his firm jaw-line or his rakishly dimpled chin. He was dressed with quiet propriety in a blue coat, but however provincial his tailor, his magnificent form could not but make it look like a masterpiece.

Her face turned towards him and quite naturally returned his grin. Despite the smut on her face Mr Elfoy warmed to her, ‘Hello there, have you hurt yourself? My name’s Elfoy and I’ve come to see your mistress.’

Clarissa was stunned – what a figure she must cut. So she said, ‘Yes sir. I’ll find her.’ and disappeared quickly. She met the Miss Micklethwaite and Oriana in the hallway as she came running in disorder from the library.

‘Oh, Waity, Mr Elfoy the agent is in the library. Pray bear him company and tell him I’ll be along in some minutes. Oriana.’ cried Clarissa, grasping her hands, ‘Can you do
something
with my hair? Please come up with me.’

Casting a bewildered glance at Miss Micklethwaite, Oriana murmured, ‘Of course, my dear.’

It was a very different Clarissa who presented herself to Mr Elfoy presently. Miss Micklethwaite gave a start on seeing her, for never had Clarissa given so much attention to her appearance. How Clarissa’s hair came to be cut at the front and coaxed into clustering curls that framed her face so becomingly and then swept into a Grecian arrangement with black satin ribbons in a scant half-hour was beyond her. She was now more correctly attired in her new black muslin, high at the neck and trimmed with the Brussels’ lace from her mamma’s chest. Her eye had a sparkle about it that Miss Micklethwaite had never seen as she held out her hand in welcome to Mr Elfoy.

‘Ah, here is Miss Thorne now.’ she said stoutly.

The handsome, easy-mannered young man that she had been conversing with for the half-hour previously had seemed to become turned to stone. Then a flush rose on his cheek and he became animated enough to clasp the hand that was being held out to him. That this was the same young woman whom he had supposed a maid, he had no doubt. He did not exactly see how it had been achieved but that he was dealing with a young lady of the first quality was quite obvious. How had he come to make such a mistake? Her chin was regally held he felt a fool of the first order. He began a tangled apology.

‘Miss Thorne. How rude you must have thought me. I did not know, I could not have guessed ...’ he stopped, realising he was getting himself into deeper water.

Clarissa took pity on him.

‘Well of course not, sir, such a figure I must have cut in my old work gown. Don’t give it another thought’ and she smiled her smile of this afternoon in the friendliest manner, gesturing to take his seat. As she sat down her eyes teased him; ‘Now we have both been a little embarrassed, haven’t we?’

Mr Elfoy found himself grinning again, causing her to dimple merrily. Good goodness, he thought, I am undone. How perfect she is and how I know I must not think such things about my employer.

Oriana noted with amusement that her entrance had passed the young man by. Although not a conceited girl, she was nevertheless used to drawing male eyes – and what superior eyes Mr Elfoy possessed. And was it possible that Clarissa was flirting? The burns from the hot iron still smarted on Oriana’s hands, for Clarissa had urged her maid and Oriana to make haste upstairs and twisted and turned whist it was being done. When finally it was finished she had looked into the mirror appreciatively. ‘Now at least I shall not be taken for a servant.’

Oriana had replied, ‘No, indeed.’

She now exchanged amused glances with Miss Micklethwaite who was still reeling at the change in Clarissa. One glance at the handsome young agent was quite enough quite enough to explain her friend’s behaviour.

Clarissa and he discussed the estate, with Oriana called to participate, asking questions that Mr Elfoy saw at once to be apposite and full of knowledge that he had not believed young ladies to possess. Indeed he was stunned by how much of what was said that Clarissa grasped and he was hopeful that, at last, a good landlord might put the estate to rights.

‘The truth is, Mr Elfoy, that all of what you say needs done must be done from what revenues we now have. I bring no money to help with any of this,’ said Clarissa with her usual candour, ‘Perhaps you believe it cannot be done?’

Mr Elfoy blushed again, to his own irritation. ‘There may be some help with this, Miss Thorne, but we must act fast. Of course, it will not cover all the repairs and improvements, but…’

Oriana laughed, ‘For goodness sake, sir, we are all agog. What is it?’

‘The Dower House: it has been well looked after by an aunt of the previous Viscount and is now vacant. If you would not object to a tenant, Ma’am, I believe that the rent might allow us to begin. The last Viscount would not have tenants since he liked to have his, well his privacy….’

‘
Don't be mealy-mouthed, young man,’
interrupted Miss Micklethwaite, ‘we all know what a libertine the late Viscount was. We can imagine that he did not want his – pleasures - to be overlooked by the world.’

‘Indeed, yes,’ said Clarissa, ‘my late cousin seems to have been a strange person - but never mind that. Let it be a tenant sir, and as soon as maybe. We shall leave the matter entirely in your hands. Do call tomorrow and ride with Miss Petersham and myself around the estate, I shall be most obliged if you could introduce me to the tenant farmers.’

As Mr Elfoy left with a singing heart, Clarissa began to be teased by her companions. She did not attend, however. She had thought that she had just wanted to play a trick on Mr Elfoy, but she discovered that his obvious admiration had had an effect on her as did his easy grin and his sense of the ridiculous. Never had she felt so - so
elevated
in the presence of a young man. She knew, however, that it would be wrong to think of him. Their situations were very different. Though as a gentleman’s son of small means he might have been a proper suitor for her six months ago, he would no longer feel himself equal to court the lady of the manor. It was unfortunate, but her mind was too full of the tasks ahead to feel much pain.

In the days that followed, a pattern developed. Clarissa and Oriana rode on the estate with Mr Elfoy, meeting her tenants and Miss Micklethwaite and Miss Appleby set to on the linen and the hot houses making energetic use of their time. The girls that had been employed to help had never worked so hard and soon order began to be established and portions of the house polished and shone as it had in its glory days.  They banished tired and damaged furniture to the attics and discovered beautiful pieces in the plethora of upstairs rooms to replace them.

When Clarissa evinced a desire for the grounds (at least those immediately around the house) to be put to rights, Mr Elfoy led her to meet Muggins, a tenant farmer on the estate whose father had directed the regiment of gardeners in her uncle’s time.

Oriana, a little behind Clarissa and Mr Elfoy saw a strong square man with a look of defiance on his face and wondered if trouble might not come. He was a broad, fiercely strong man in his twenties wearing a striped shirt that was frayed but had been put on clean this morning. The yard had a well-kept look to it and Oriana deduced a good tenant. So what was making his good blunt face so dark?

Mr Elfoy explained their errand and asked if Muggins could get some men together to help in the gardens.

‘I darsay, sir.’

`Clarissa bent forward in her saddle and held out her hand. ‘Thank you Mr Muggins, it would be very good of you,’ she said with her frank smile.

Muggins wiped his hand on his breeches before he shook it, somewhat reluctantly.

Mr Elfoy looked at the barn. ‘You have been fixing the barn after all, I see Muggins.’ he exclaimed.

Muggins drew himself up. ‘I have Mr Elfoy, sir. I took the stone from the old Martin’s farm, like I told you I would, even if I didn’t have permission of the late Lord. The beasts cannot await permission.’ He pronounced these words with an air of defiance looking latterly at Clarissa.

Elfoy was about to speak, but Clarissa interrupted.

‘How sensible, Mr Muggins. I need just such a man who knows how to act on his own initiative to see to the garden. However, you must have much to do on the farm and you must not neglect it on my behalf.’

Ah, how good she is with these people, thought Oriana. How quickly she learns. She exchanged warm looks of approval with Elfoy.

‘As to that ma’am, ‘twould be a pleasure. My father would have been taken bad to see the grounds as they are.’ He hesitated and looked at Clarissa with a flushed countenance, ‘I should not have taken the stone, for it rightly belongs to you, ma’am. My mother tells me I’m not a patient man. Per’aps you would like to step down and meet her, miss. She’d be much honoured.’

The party dismounted and met Mrs Muggins, a round and cheery lady who regaled them with homemade scones and her own jam made only last year. As they sat in the cosy cottage Clarissa heard tales of her mother’s childhood when Mrs Muggins had been a maid in the great house.

At last they were able to leave and as they rode towards the house, Clarissa, who had been unusually silent suddenly pulled up her horse and exclaimed, ‘I have it. Mr Elfoy, I have it. Our encounter with Muggins has given me the answer to all of our problems.’

Oriana and Elfoy pulled up and looked at her in astonishment.

‘The West Wing.’

Oriana said, ‘I thought, my dear Clarissa, you had agreed with Mr Elfoy that the cost of repairing the West Wing is not to be thought of. I did not know that you had any desire to do so.’

‘Of course I do not.’ said Clarissa impatiently; ‘We must sacrifice the West Wing entirely. It is of no use to me, but the stone and slate and timber might do proper repairs to cottages on the estate. It could do real good, instead of sitting uselessly at the edge of the house.’

Mr Elfoy’s eyes lit up. Suddenly he could see a fast and reasonably inexpensive way to make the improvements his agent’s heart desired. ‘We could use the soldiers that have returned from the war to do the work. Many are wounded, but…No. Consider, Miss Clarissa. The stone was imported by your grandfather at great cost - you would reduce the size of a great house…’

Clarissa interrupted, her eyes blazing excitement. She turned to Oriana. ‘Do
you
believe it could be done?’

Oriana considered. In the last days she and Clarissa had seen hardship on the estate that had touched their compassionate souls: so much needing done, but with so little funds to do it. Once acting as Mistress of her father’s estate, she had been shocked to see what had been allowed to happen here to the tenants all for the want of a little management. Though they could make do for the next year or so, she had felt all the evils for the tenants that having an impoverished mistress might bestow and had even thought of advising a sale to allay their suffering. Now, however, there was a real hope. ‘I believe it could.’

The three galloped to the house talking of labour and architects and feeling, at last, that they might do something really fine for Clarissa’s dependants.

When Oriana took a breath, she fell a little behind to observe the other two laughing and planning, Tristram Elfoy lit up with a passion to put wrongs right and the practical shrewdness to do so. She saw how Clarissa hung on his words and garnered his expertise asking questions and matching him for enthusiasm. It was so rare to find a man share thoughts and plans so easily with a woman and Oriana wondered sadly if it was only his position as an employee that allowed this equality of ideas to bloom. Would he allow his wife to offer ideas as an equal? Something of Mr Elfoy’s joy and warmth as he looked at Clarissa suddenly dispelled her cynicism.

Lord Staines had been delayed in paying his call Clarissa by the arrival of unexpected guests. The Earl of Grandiston and the Honourable Charles Booth, to be precise. Staines and Booth had been at school together (though Staines had been the elder) and Grandiston was a man far too important in society not to be welcomed warmly to any home. They announced themselves to be passing from Grandiston’s home further north on their way to London. Naturally, they were invited to stay and later to prolong their visit with some shooting and fishing on Lord Staines tidy estate. Much to his surprise, both invitations were accepted and Staines imported this to his superior hospitality, as he confided to his mother.

His mother, resplendent today in a yellow gown and pink shawl, agreed with him faintly, ‘Very likely, my dear. They do seem set to make a rather longer visit than I thought, though. Lord Grandiston has no height of manner, has he? He may be able to do you a great deal of good you know, with his relationship to the Royal Princes.’

‘Indeed, by his reputation for pride he is much maligned. He has offered to introduce me at his club.’

However much Lady Staines may abhor gambling for large stakes she knew what a social coup it was for her son to be introduced to Waiters by someone of Grandiston’s standing. ‘My dear boy, you will be made socially. I daresay everyone will receive us.’ She bustled off to see cook about dinner feeling jubilant but still with a nagging doubt as to their good fortune. Why should so great a man be at his leisure here when he had so little in common with her rather less brilliant son.

She received an inkling at dinner when she prattled on to cover her distress at the dreadful entrée (which had spoiled under the cook’s anxiety about having to produce so many elegant dinners)

‘We have a new neighbour at the Great House, gentlemen. A Miss Thorne is come into the estate after the sad death, so young, of her cousin the Viscount. I believe that she has taken up residence there but we have not yet visited, have we my dear boy?’

Her son looked displeased.  ‘I do not believe that she is to be our neighbour. Indeed, her brother as good as sold the land to me. I consider it quite settled.’

Grandiston drawled, ‘I do not believe her brother is the owner, or would not he have come into the property?’

Lady Staines was sometimes a silly woman but she had a woman’s intuitions. Distinctly, under the drawl, she heard an interest in Grandiston’s voice.

‘No,’ said her son, ‘a half-brother, I believe. Not a noble family but quite respectable. As her nearest male relation, he naturally would be the one to guide her in what she must do. Her land would round mine off very nicely. It is my ambition to make Staines a Great Estate.’

‘A worthy ambition, my dear fellow, you should lose no time in visiting the young lady. Perhaps we could accompany you on the morrow.’

‘Are you acquainted with Miss Thorne, Lord Grandiston?’

‘No indeed, Lady Staines, but I am always ready to make new acquaintance. It intrigues me, too, to meet a young lady who sets herself against her brother’s wishes.’

Mr Booth, hearing the subtext in this, regarding Miss Petersham, gave a shout of laughter but upon the Earl’s eye being cast his way, he controlled himself and apologized that his mind had wandered. Lady Staines watched and wondered.

Though they rode over the next day, they were denied entry by the imperturbable Sullivan. Lord Staines left his card and inquired to a morning when he might find the young lady at home.

‘As to that, sir, I could not say. Miss Thorne is very much engaged with estate business at the moment.’

Staines was flustered whilst Grandiston admired the butler’s style. He had just such an old retainer on his own estate.

‘Estate business. Your mistress cannot mean to stay.’

Sullivan looked down his nose in a manner that suggested that Staines was of questionable respectability. He regally ignored the intrusive question and paused meaningfully then said, ‘I will deliver your card to my mistress, sir’

‘What a fine specimen of a butler.’ declared Booth with great glee. ‘Sent us about our business and no mistake. No disreputable characters will storm this castle. Wouldn’t wager you buying this pile, Staines, she’s settling in. Mark my words, sir, settling in.’

Oh, how I love you, Charles, thought Grandiston observing his Lordship’s affronted face. Pomposity withers in your presence.

His eyes had taken in the well-polished floor behind Sullivan and the signs of work beginning in the garden. The ladies were indeed settling in, and though Grandiston did not yet know if this was to his advantage, the landlord in him applauded their actions. Had they bitten off more than they could chew, however? Dawdling behind the rest, he contrived to ask a farm labourer the name and direction of the estate’s agent.

Next day, Lord Staines received a perfectly civil note from Clarissa regretting that the house was not yet in a fit state to receive visitors and that she herself was too busy with important estate matters to call as yet. She thanked him for his visit and hoped he would be at home to renew it after, say, a month had elapsed.

This missive enraged Staines so much that despite his mother’s entreaties; he dashed off a letter to her brother, castigating him for not exercising more control over his sister.

Returning home that evening after an interesting time spent in the Red Bull drinking his porter at the same time as Mr Elfoy’s nightly ale, Grandiston accosted Charles in the Hall.

‘Charles, the bloom is once more upon your cheek. The country air agrees with you.’

‘Grandiston. What are you about now?’ said the Honourable Mr Booth with a wary look.

‘Have you not thought Charles of your need, your quite
urgent
need, for a house in the country?’

Next day at breakfast, the gentlemen informed Lady Staines of their intention of leaving. Upon her protestations of grief, Mr Booth imparted some good news.

‘Oh, ma’am, don’t give it a thought. As a matter of fact I’ve taken a real fancy to this country. Best shooting I’ve had in an age. Mean to take a house in the neighbourhood. Be neighbours, you know.’

‘But wherever can you mean to stay?’ said the lady, faintly.

‘Why the Dower House at Ashcroft, ma’am.’