Settling the Account (51 page)

‘Oh, books,’ Lizzie said. ‘I’m much too busy
for that sort of thing. Amy knows a lot about books, though. She
used to be a teacher.’

Amy did not bother correcting her this time;
she knew she was not intended to be the chief object of the
doctor’s attention.
I haven’t read that book for years
, she
realised.
I must get it out again
.

‘I think you might enjoy Miss Austen’s work,
Mrs Kelly,’ Doctor Townsend said. ‘You’d rather sympathise with Mrs
Bennet, I suspect. Five daughters to see properly settled.’

‘Four’s enough, thank you. Have another
cake. Frank, do you want some more?’

‘Yes, I wouldn’t mind. Nice cakes, love,’ he
told Maudie. Amy saw a slightly wistful look on his face as Maudie
gave him only the briefest of glances in return.

‘We’re having one of our soyrees soon,
Doctor Townsend,’ Lizzie said. ‘The week after next, I was thinking
of. It’d be nice if you could come.’

‘I’m sorry?’ the doctor said. ‘I didn’t
quite catch… what did you say you’re having?’

‘A
soyree
.’ Lizzie looked puzzled.
‘Don’t you have soyrees in England? You know, a sort of musical
evening—we sometimes have ours in the afternoon, though, because
it’s better for milking.’

‘Oh, a
soirée
,’ the doctor said. ‘We
used to pronounce it a rather odd way at home,’ he explained
smoothly.

‘Soyree, that’s right. Maudie plays the
piano very nicely. She sings, too. And we have a nice supper, or an
afternoon tea. You’ll come, won’t you?’

‘Ah, I’m not sure if…’ the doctor said. ‘I’m
very honoured to be asked, of course, but I… well, I might be away
that week.’

‘Well, you’ll just have to come to the next
one, then,’ Lizzie said, nothing daunted.

Amy excused herself soon afterwards, knowing
that she would have to rush to get Charlie’s afternoon tea ready
before he became impatient.

*

Frank could see that the doctor was
wondering how soon he could politely leave himself, and he began to
feel a little guilty about leaving their guest to Lizzie’s
none-too-subtle attentions.

‘Lizzie, the doctor’s a busy man,’ he chided
gently. ‘There’s times I can’t get away, you know, like calving and
things. I don’t suppose you’re interested in cows?’ he asked the
doctor, offering the only area of conversation in which he felt
adept.

‘I’m woefully ignorant on the subject,’
Doctor Townsend said. ‘I’d like to learn something about farming,
though—it seems foolish not to take the opportunity while I’m
living in a farming district. And from what I’ve heard, you’re just
the person to ask.’

‘Frank’s very prominent,’ Lizzie put in.
‘You know he’s the chairman, I suppose?’

‘Lizzie!’ Frank said, embarrassed and
pleased at the same time.

‘Well, someone’s got to tell the man!’

‘Yes, I had heard that. I’ve also heard
you’re a very successful breeder, Mr Kelly—of cows, I mean.’

‘I’m not too bad on kids, either,’ Frank
said with a grin, regretting the impulse when he saw Maudie and
Beth giggle while Lizzie cast an admonishing look at him. ‘I
haven’t done too bad with the cows, the herd’s come on pretty well
over the years. I don’t suppose… would you like to see them?’ he
asked. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that he was earning a
glare from both Lizzie and Maudie.

‘I don’t think the doctor wants to see your
cows just now, Frank,’ Lizzie said sweetly. ‘He’d like to just sit
here and have another cup of tea.’

‘Actually, I should be going,’ the doctor
said. ‘But I would like to see your cows, Mr Kelly.’ He pulled out
his watch and studied it. ‘I think… yes, I’d be delighted to see
them.’ He turned an enthusiastic smile on Frank, and Frank felt his
heart warming to the young man in place of the mild resentment he
had felt earlier.

‘You realise I can’t really tell one cow
from another?’ the doctor said as they walked out of the house
together. ‘You’ll think I’m quite an ignoramus.’

‘No, I don’t know anything about doctoring,
either. But cows are all different, once you get to know them. You
get to the stage after a bit where you can tell whether a heifer’s
going to be a good producer right from when she’s a calf. The
bloodlines are important, too. But it’s funny, you can get a cow
who’s a really good milker, but she doesn’t always throw good
calves. The bull’s got a lot to do with it. And you’ve got to pick
cows that have the good points the bull mightn’t have. It’s
really…’ Frank trailed off. ‘Tell me to shut up if I’m being a
bore.’

‘It’s not boring at all—it’s fascinating!
You must have to keep quite full records, I suppose, of what cows
you mate and when?’

‘Oh, yes, I do that. And production figures
and things. And which ones calve easier.’

‘You know them all by name, do you?’

‘Yes, they’ve all got names. Remind me to
show you Jersey Lily, she’s named after Lizzie’s brother’s wife.
It’s a funny thing about her—she’s got a little patch of white on
her neck, and she always seems to throw a calf with the same bit of
white. It’s queer the way they pass on some things and not
others.’

‘I’ve always been interested in that sort of
thing,’ Doctor Townsend said. ‘Actually I was reading something
about it not long ago. There was work done by a monk, of all
people. It was somewhere on the Continent, I don’t remember just
where. He wrote it years and years ago, but it’s just come to light
recently. It was mainly about peas, I seem to recall, but I
wouldn’t be surprised if the same sort of rules applied to cows.’
He gave Frank a look of surprised pleasure. ‘Do you know, you’re
the first person I’ve ever met whom I could talk to about this sort
of thing without noticing them yawning after the first
sentence.’

‘I was just thinking much the same thing
myself,’ Frank told him with a grin.

*

‘But you can stay for one more cup of tea,
can’t you?’ Lizzie asked. ‘You must be worn out, too, after Frank
dragging you all over the farm. Sit down for a bit, why don’t
you?’

‘I’ve enjoyed every minute of it,’ Doctor
Townsend assured her. ‘And I’m afraid I really can’t stay any
longer—I just came back to thank you for your kind hospitality. And
thank you for cleaning my jacket so nicely,’ he told Maudie as he
slipped it on, still warm from being dried by the range.

He made his farewells, and before Lizzie
could make any further protest Frank was showing him out. ‘Front
door, Frank,’ she hissed, but it was too late; Frank had already
led the doctor to the back door.

‘Bye, Richard,’ Frank called as the doctor’s
gig pulled away.

‘So I’ll expect you later in the week,’ the
doctor called back. ‘I’ll hunt out that book we were talking
about.’

‘Yes, next time I’m in town I’ll pop in.
That’ll be good.’

Frank went back to the house to find Lizzie
and Maudie in the kitchen, both regarding him sternly.

‘Well, a fat lot of use
that
was,’
Lizzie said. ‘You rushing him off like that, before Maudie even had
a chance to talk to him.’

‘You’ll have a chance another time, love,’
Frank told his scowling daughter.

‘I hope so,’ Maudie muttered. ‘I’m going to
get changed,’ she said, stalking off towards the passage. ‘Don’t
know why I bothered to get dressed up.’

‘And he didn’t seem to want to come to the
soyree,’ Lizzie said, frowning in irritation. ‘I’m not sure what to
do about him.’

‘Oh, he’s coming to the soyree,’ Frank said,
taking great satisfaction from the startled expression that came
over Lizzie’s face.

‘But he said he couldn’t come. He said he’d
be away.’

‘Well, he seemed to change his mind,’ Frank
said. ‘I asked him while we were out with the cows, and he said
he’d be glad to.’

Lizzie opened and closed her mouth twice,
while she gathered her wits. ‘But… but I thought you didn’t even
like him. You were that funny about us having him out here.’

‘That was before I got to know him. I’m
allowed to change my mind, aren’t I?’ Frank pulled her close and
slipped an arm around her, letting one hand rest on her bottom.
‘You think he’s worth chasing after, don’t you? You know
something?’ He patted the soft roundness under his hand. ‘I don’t
think he’s such a bad catch myself.’

December 1902 – June 1903

Although Maudie was clearly put out that it
was her father who was the attraction as far as Richard Townsend
was concerned, it meant the doctor could be persuaded to visit the
house, and for the moment she appeared to be content with that.

Richard was soon a regular guest at Lizzie’s
soirées, and after an initial reserve he seemed to enjoy the
company of all Maudie’s relations. He was an appreciative audience
of Lily’s playing. Frank would often see an expression of deep
pleasure on Richard’s face as he listened to Lily executing a
particularly complex piece.

Fond father though he was, Frank did not try
to deceive himself that Maudie’s playing was anywhere near the
level of Lily’s, but Richard always managed to appear impressed by
Maudie’s attempts, too.

‘He’s got such lovely manners,’ was one of
Maudie’s early comments on the man she already appeared to think of
as her future husband. ‘He’s just so polite all the time.’

And so he was, Frank agreed. There never
seemed to be anything unnatural or forced about Richard’s
behaviour, but somehow the man never said anything out of place or
remotely likely to give offence. Frank supposed this must be the
mysterious ‘good breeding’ he had sometimes heard spoken of. Even
without Richard’s pleasant looks and supposed money, the novelty of
a man who never allowed himself to be seated in a woman’s presence
while she was standing, who opened doors for her and always
expected her to precede him through any doorway, could not help but
attract Maudie’s interest. But, to her increasingly visible
frustration, Richard showed her exactly the same polite attention
as he did her mother; no less, and certainly no more.

By the time Richard came to his third
soirée, early in the New Year, he was taking part more easily in
the group’s conversations.

‘You’re enjoying the music, aren’t you,
Doctor?’ Bill remarked one evening, having noticed with approval
how impressed Richard was by Lily’s playing.

‘It’s very fine,’ said Richard. ‘I’ve never
heard finer playing, Mrs Leith.’ Lily gave a little laugh and tried
to brush aside the compliment, but Frank could see that the
doctor’s praise pleased her. After all, he reflected, Richard had
probably been to more concerts than the rest of them put
together.

‘Are our soyrees much different from the
ones you used to go to in England?’ Lizzie asked.

A cautious expression crossed Richard’s
face. He accepted a cake from the plate offered him by Maisie
before turning to Lizzie.

‘I’d say yours were friendlier, Mrs Kelly.
And smaller, generally. It makes it far easier to talk to everyone,
I must say.’

‘But they have the piano, and singing and
everything, like we do?’ Lizzie pressed.

‘Oh, yes, music is always an important part
of soi… of such occasions. Always a piano, of course, and sometimes
a flute or a violin—or even both—to go with it.’

‘A violin! I adore violin music. Oh, I’d
love to play in a little group like that,’ Lily said.

‘Would you, love?’ Bill looked
surprised.

‘Oh, yes! It’s such a challenge, playing
with a group. Not that I don’t love playing on my own, of course,’
she added with a reassuring smile at her husband. ‘And if I had to
choose one or the other, I’d much prefer to keep to playing alone.
But a group’s such a different challenge. I know,’ she said, the
laughter in her voice making it clear that she was bantering, ‘why
don’t you find someone to teach one of the children the violin,
Lizzie? Then we could start our own little group.’

Lizzie’s expression showed that she was
giving the idea more serious consideration than Lily had intended.
‘I’ll have a think about that. I’ve already started Beth on the
piano, it’s not worth changing her over. But maybe when Rosie gets
a bit older we’ll look into it.’

‘Oh, I’d really rather you didn’t, Mrs
Kelly,’ Richard said. He gave an embarrassed laugh when he saw the
startled look Lizzie turned on him. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to
sound as though I were laying down the law like that! It’s just
that I was witness to a rather unpleasant incident with a violin
once.’

‘What happened?’ Lizzie asked.

‘It was at a soirée I went to in
Hertfordshire, at the home of a friend from Cambridge. They had a
little musical group—a piano, I think it may have been two flutes,
and the violin was being played by a young lady. She was rather new
to the instrument, it turned out later, and that was half the
problem. It seems she’d tightened the strings far too much, not
knowing any better. Then when she was halfway through a piece, she
tried tightening one a little more, and it snapped.’

‘So she couldn’t play it any more?’ Frank
said.

‘Well, it was worse than that. The string
whipped against her face, and dug right into her cheek. The poor
girl got a dreadful fright, and it hurt her terribly. I had to give
her a dose of morphine to settle her before I could see to the
cut.’

‘Did she come right?’ Lizzie asked.

‘Oh, it healed up cleanly enough, but it
left its mark.’ He smiled in the direction of the girls’ bedroom.
‘I wouldn’t like to think of little Rosie left with a scar like
poor Lady Harriet.’

They all tut-tutted over the unfortunate
story, but Maudie was the first to remark on one aspect of it.
‘Doctor Townsend,’ she said hesitantly, ‘did you say
Lady
Harriet?’

‘Mmm? Oh yes, I did.’ Richard looked as if
he had not meant to let that particular piece of information slip.
‘Yes, her father’s an earl. I must say “Lady” seemed rather
incongruous for a girl of thirteen,’ he added with a smile.