Feral Park (16 page)

With an exuberant nod: “So Nancy sleeps again in her former apartment?”

“The outcome, unfortunately, was not so advantageous to Miss Henshawe as
that
. She has been removed to one of the maid’s rooms.”

“Oh, my.”

“Which she shares with the upstairs maid.”

“Oh, dear.”

“It is, thankfully, a large bed.”

“But for shame, nonetheless.”

Anna thought to herself, “It would be dreadful to live in Moseley Manor with Charles Quarrels as landlord and Mrs. Quarrels as all but landlady herself. It makes me ever the more determined to rescue these young women from their present demoralizing circumstances.”

Anna thought of one thing more to ask Gemma. “How can it possibly be that
Mrs.
Henshawe was not restored to
her
own room?”

“I know not. I know only that she is required to sleep in the same room as her daughters in this most demeaning arrangement.”

“How abominable! And what does Mrs. Quarrels do with each of the three vacated rooms?”

“Two are reserved for guests of the Quarrels. The third, Mrs. Henshawe’s apartment—the sitting and dressing-rooms as well—are left empty and unattended so that Mrs. Quarrels may have a private place to go and stretch her arms this way and that to invigourate the circulation of blood without being seen.”

“There are not other rooms in that large house where she may stretch her arms in such an odd way?”

Gemma nodded. “There are several rooms, in fact, for you know how large is Moseley Manor. But Mrs. Quarrels prefers Mrs. Henshawe’s former apartment best because it is spacious and sometimes, as she pandiculates, she takes giant strides to the front and to the back and then to each side whilst breathing deeply and emitting a croaking sound not unlike that of a large frog, and as Eliza tells it from the afternoon she spied upon her odious aunt through the keyhole, Mrs. Quarrels appears at such a time herself to be a croaking idiot. May I tell you one thing more?”

The question was put forth just as the carriage entered the imposing iron sweep-gate of Moseley Manor, the house sitting prominently ahead, tall and redoubtable atop an embowered hill.

“You may. Oh, look, Gemma, how unhappy the great house appears. My heart breaks over all the sadness which resides within.”

“And my own heart is racing so in anxious dread. Feel my pulse here at my wrist, Anna. It is well-nigh impossible for me to banish the feelings of anger that command me as we ascend this drive. But I must check them and you must check your own as well. Otherwise, our wards of conscience will never again be permitted to entertain guests of their own as yet another rule of oppression to be imposed upon them, and we cannot have that!”

“No, my dear Gemma, we cannot.”

“Oh, Anna. Look at us. We are speaking to one another without a single cross word. I think that I shall cry.”

“Aye. When we work in league for a noble purpose there is no reason for either of us to say an ill word against the other. La, there has
never
been a good reason, now that I ponder it! You were to tell me one thing more?”

“Perhaps I should not stir the bile only moments before we must be upon our best behaviour.”

“But you will tell me later—on the return drive?”

Gemma nodded just as the horses were brought to stop before the house. The footman assisted the two in climbing down from the seat. He then rang the front bell on their behalf. The women swallowed hard and prepared themselves to be incensed whilst concealing their anger behind pleasant smiles and equally pleasant discourse.

It was Mrs. Quarrels who greeted Anna and Gemma in the hall. “Good morning, my niece, and hullo and good morning to you too, Miss Peppercorn.” (Taking Gemma by the hand,) “Dear Gemma, it has been so very long since we have spent even a moment together. How is my sister-in-law?”

“Mamma is doing quite well. She sends her very best wishes.” “She could not come herself?”

“She regrets that she could not.”

“Pity,” said Mrs. Quarrels in a dull tone.

“And where are the others?” asked Gemma, looking about, as she and Anna were being led into the drawing-room.

“The others? Your cousin Charles is away on business in Winchester. I am to tell you that he is most sorry to have missed you, but as you live not five miles away, he is hopeful that it is your intent to visit us more frequently in future.”

“And I wish that you would, in turn, come to call at Thistlethorn, Aunt Lydia. It has been even longer since you and Charles have gone
thither
.”

“Has it? Well, you know, dear, that your mother and I have not always been on the best of terms. Perhaps that will change now that we live so near to one another. The passage of so many years may also serve to heal to great degree the wounds of former days. Perhaps she and I may repair our relationship altogether. Widows are apt to find comfort in the company of one another, are they not?”

“Indeed,” answered Gemma, still looking about.

“Is there someone else you wish to see?”

“Yes,Aunt.Anna and I were looking forward to visiting with Mrs. Henshawe and the Misses Henshawe, as well.”

“I am afraid, niece, that such intercourse would be out of the question. All are in the summerhouse to the rear of the demesne and past the west arbor. It would not be an easy walk to reach them, especially for one with a wooden leg such as yourself. We will visit here, just we three, and perhaps you will have the opportunity of seeing them on some future visit.”

“It would not be a taxing walk for me,” countered Gemma politely, “for I love to walk, as does Anna, and we did both so wish to visit with the Henshawes to-day. I have not spoken a word to any of them since you and my cousin Charles moved hither from London.”

“Well, they are doing perfectly well under our auspices, and if it is your doubts along these lines that have motivated your request, you need not concern yourself over their welfare for even a moment longer.” Mrs. Quarrels had suddenly become agitated in her tone and coarse in her aspect. “I see,” said Gemma not knowing what else to say.

“And have you by some miracle, dear Gemma, had a new leg sewn upon your stump? I know that walking has never been a facile exercise for you. You once told me that it pained you simply to cross a room to greet me.”

“She walks frequently now,” offered Anna. “Sometimes she even runs, although it is more like a tittup. But if you believe that she cannot make her way on foot to the summerhouse, perhaps you could send a servant thither to bring the Henshawes
hither.
We would not mind the wait. We could drink our tea very slowly and draw out our words to fill the time.”

“I perceive impudence in your manner, Miss Peppercorn.”

“None was intended,” answered Anna calmly. “Why, pray,
are
the Henshawes at the summerhouse?”

“Because it is a beautiful Sunday afternoon and I felt that it would be to their benefit to take the fresh air.”

“That is the only reason? There is no other?”

“If you are to force truth from me, my dear, I should say without a single pang of conscience that it is also because I generally wish at certain times during the week, and especially when a turn in the warm sun would do them all good, to rid myself temporarily of their unattractive countenances.” Mrs. Quarrels took a sip of tea, which was hardly a sip at all for the liquid was still quite hot. In fact, she seemed merely to touch her lips to the cup and
pretend
to take a sip to allow herself an interval during which, Anna had little doubt, the woman busied herself composing in her head things that she might say next. (And there seemed to Anna a great many things that a woman such as Lydia Quarrels might say on the vexing topic of her nieces and their mother.) Within Anna’s own head she pictured Gemma’s aunt—not handsomely countenanced herself, although this fact would not win her an invitation to the Feral Park ball—stretching her arms about in a comical manner and puffing and croaking as she moving back and forth and side to side to circulate the blood. The picture brought Anna nearly to the point of grinning, but she would not. She had said enough already that did not serve her friend Gemma, who had the difficult task of promoting a need to see the Henshawes whilst preserving civility with her aunt.

The silence was broken by Mrs. Quarrels, who now, it seemed, was pretending to swallow the tea that previously she had pretended to sip. She spoke directly to her niece Gemma: “Granted, you have not seen the Henshawes for some time, my dear, but it is no loss on your side. What you perhaps do not realise is that they have become, each of them, far uglier than they were even a short while ago, the decline in countenance being really quite remarkable. The eyes protrude more, for example; the noses have become much more hooked. It is as if they are intentionally transforming themselves into the Macbeth witches as a purposed avocation! So you see: I am doing you a significant favour by consigning them to the summerhouse where no one will see them but the huntsmen, who sometimes sleep there after nocturnal shooting excursions in our coppice. It is a nearly perfect arrangement so long as the hunters do not take a shot at one or more of these hideous women, mistaking them for verminous creatures of the wood in need of extermination!” The laugh that accompanied Mrs. Quarrels’ finishing remark sounded more like a barnyard cackle than an expression of human hilarity and it brought Gemma to her feet in pronounced indignation.

“That is a truly abominable thing to say about anyone, Aunt Lydia, and especially about a mother and three daughters who under more propitious circumstances would reside here in perfect peace and contentment with you and your oppressive son at safe distance in your rookery in Cheapside.” “Chelsea. Not Cheapside! What an insulting remark!”

Gemma had still more that she wished to say and did not hold her tongue.

“
And
without living in daily danger of injury from your cruelties and your monstrous malice and your most vile and hateful speech which assaults their pride and tortures their inherent good natures without recess!” “My dear God!” Mrs. Quarrels fell back into her chair, apparently never having been in all her life so savaged by insult.

“I came hither,” Gemma concluded, “expecting to extend all civilities to you respective of our family connexion, but I was not prepared to hear you speak so maleficently of the Henshawes, who do not deserve even an ounce of your vicious revilement! I must ask what gives you this right! What gives you the right to such opprobrious disparagement?”

“My right is licensed by circumstance. For this unsightly quartet are suffered to reside in this house only by the kindness and liberality of my son.”

“
Kindness
!
Liberality
! It is an outrageous falsehood! The Henshawes remain here for one reason only. Do you know it? Has he told you what he makes Sophia do in London?”

Mrs. Quarrels nodded. “I know exactly what the arrangement is. I know not how
you
know, but it is no matter. I fully endorse the setup for the simple reason that Sophia is incapable of any other form of employment with the exception of giving her quim to blind men in the street. At all events, it matters not whether I approve the scheme, for Charles would never permit them to stay otherwise.”

Anna, rattled by use of the word
quim
, rose unsteadily to stand at the side of her friend. Replied that friend, “Then, my aunt, you hold no sway over your son—neither in this regard, nor in any other.”

“I hold sway, to be sure, but I will not ask him to suspend Sophia’s involvement at the M.P., for he derives far too much pleasure both from taking her there under his own offices and from watching her perform. And what is more, he tells me that she has got very good at what she does there in the short time she has spent in the fur.”

“You do not go thither? Madam, I do not believe you.”

“I
cannot
go thither, disrespectful girl.
No
woman goes there to watch, as is the rule. I need not, however, attend the place to know that she is the best of the dancers in the group, and furthermore, that she has grown to fully enjoy her employment in monkey harness.”

“That is an odious mendacity!” cried Gemma. And in her apoplectic proclamation her fabricated eye popped from her head and shot itself across the room.

“I will not assist you in retrieving that disgusting thing,” announced Mrs. Quarrels with a defiant folding of the arms across the chest.

“Well, I am not asking it of you, witch!” Gemma spat back as she moved to find the eye. Anna assisted her friend in the search, as did the steward’s pretty daughter Bella, who served as housekeeper’s assistant.

Mrs. Quarrels said nothing more as the eye was being sought and then found and then wiped clean of dust and finally reposited in its socket. But the very moment in which she felt she could once again command the undivided attention of her niece and her niece’s companion, she delivered the following:

“It should interest you to know, further, impudent niece, that Eliza, too, has asked to learn the monkey dance and to be allowed to perform it at the side of her sister.”

“Another monstrous mendacity!” exclaimed Gemma. “Bring her hither! She will deny it. I challenge you.”

“I will not accept the challenge, idiot girl, nor can you go to the summer hermitage to ask her yourself, for, as I have already said, I will not grant you permission to go thither. So, you see, you must simply take my word for it.” Anna, who had been quiet for some time in deference to her friend, even though she wished to interpose a point now and then, broke the silence at that moment by delivering the following in a cool and civil tone: “So I suppose that this means, as well, that Eliza is not to be allowed to come out. She does not enter society but goes instead to the ‘M.P.’ as you call it.”