Settling the Account (52 page)

Maudie’s voice came out as something close
to a squeak. ‘Do you…’ She swallowed with difficulty and started
again. ‘Do you know lots of titled folk?’

‘Not really,’ Richard said, looking
decidedly awkward. ‘A few.’

‘You’re not…’ Maudie was bright-eyed with
the new idea that had just struck her. ‘You’re not titled folk
yourself, are you?’ Frank saw written clearly in her face the
notion of herself as Lady Maudie.

Richard laughed. ‘The only title I have,
Miss Kelly, is the one I earned through my own efforts: Doctor. And
I’ve never desired any other.’

‘Oh.’ Maudie looked only slightly downcast.
‘But fancy mixing with all those people! I bet they’ve got such
lovely clothes and things. And titled folk!’

‘Believe me, Miss Kelly,’ Richard said,
‘people are much the same wherever one goes. And no matter what
their titles. Mrs Leith, are we to have the pleasure of hearing you
play again?’

After Lily obliged, the talk drifted on to
other subjects. But Maudie’s attention had not shifted, Frank
noticed. His daughter was gazing at Richard with her mouth slightly
open, and a look of adoration in her eyes.

*

Richard seemed to find the soirées pleasant
enough, but he and Frank enjoyed each other’s company far more when
there were not quite so many people around. Remembering her own
early successes with Frank, Lizzie began inviting Richard out for
Sunday lunches. She always made it clear what a large part Maudie
had played in the preparation of these meals, though with no
greater reward from Richard than a polite show of appreciation.

Good though the food was at Lizzie’s table,
Frank soon saw that it was not the main reason Richard enjoyed his
visits to the farm. Freed from even the slight veneer of formality
that Lizzie managed to impose on her soirées, Richard was at first
a somewhat bemused observer of family life in Frank’s house, then
an increasingly relaxed participant. The children soon came to take
his presence for granted, which meant an end to Joey’s knowing
grins and supposedly witty remarks intended solely to bait Maudie.
Rosie openly adored Richard, and after a few Sundays’ worth of
visits she was as likely to demand that she be allowed to sit on
his lap as on her parents’ or big sisters’.

Richard sometimes spoke of the countries he
had visited in Europe, with their castles and palaces, museums and
cathedrals, on what he referred to with a touch of embarrassment as
his ‘Grand Tour’. Maudie did not pine for faraway castles, but they
gave Richard even more glamour in her eyes. She was besotted with
him, and made little effort to disguise it, hanging on his every
word. No matter how commonplace the subject, her expression showed
that what he said was fascinating to her.

Richard went from looking rather
uncomfortable at the attention to mild amusement, then after a
month or two he seemed to have learned to ignore it. He was as
polite as ever to Maudie, though he tended to avoid meeting her
eyes any more than politeness demanded. But he had lost all sign of
reserve with the family, now that he had been accepted as almost
part of it. Frank would often see Richard watching the children
with a soft smile playing around his lips.

‘You like the kids, don’t you?’ Frank asked
as the two of them were taking a stroll around the cows after one
Sunday lunch.

‘Mmm? Yes, I do. You’ve a fine family. You
must be very proud of them.’

‘Yes, I’m that all right. I tell you what,
Richard—marrying Lizzie was the best thing I ever did.’ Frank could
not resist adding with a sly grin, ‘Maudie’s a lot like her ma, you
know.’

Richard rolled his eyes. ‘Frank, don’t you
start. You’re not playing your part properly, you know. Mr Bennet
never tried to help his wife marry off their daughters.’

‘I must read that book one of these days,
then I’d know what you’re on about.’

‘You know perfectly well what I’m on about,’
Richard said. ‘Though I must say you and Mrs Kelly are the best
advertisement for marriage I’ve ever seen. And your children are
the best advertisement for fatherhood.’

‘And Maudie’s just like her ma,’ Frank
pointed out, raising an answering smile from Richard. ‘You must get
lonely, living all by yourself.’

Richard looked pensive as he spoke. ‘I
didn’t know I was until you started sharing your family with me.’
He gave Frank a grateful smile. ‘And now I don’t really have the
chance to be.’

‘That’s good. It’s not much, though, just
the odd lunch and soyrees and stuff. You’re still by yourself most
nights. I expect you miss your family, what with being so far from
England.’

‘Not really,’ Richard said, much to Frank’s
surprise.

‘But you must,’ he protested. ‘Gee, I’d hate
to think of any of my kids being halfway around the world so I
could never see them.’

‘Frank,’ Richard said, ‘I suspect you have
something of a false picture of my family. You’re imagining it to
be much the same as your own, aren’t you?’

‘Well, I suppose kids are kids, aren’t they?
I know your place must have been an awful lot flasher than this,
though.’

Richard shook his head. ‘That’s not the sort
of difference I was thinking of. Have you ever heard of Eton?’

Frank shook his head.

‘It’s a school in England. It’s considered a
very good school, and I suppose it is in its way. I certainly
learned many things there, not all of them lessons from books. I
was destined for Eton from an early age. To get me ready for it, I
was sent to what we call a preparatory school, and I went there as
a boarder. That meant spending ten months a year living at the
school. I was seven years old.’

‘Seven?’ Frank echoed in amazement. ‘Heck,
that’s not much older than Danny is! Lizzie’d never part with one
of ours at that age. Neither would I.’

‘No, I’m sure you wouldn’t. But that’s the
way things are done in families like mine. And you know what,
Frank? I didn’t fret for my mother. I certainly didn’t pine for my
father—at that age I often didn’t see him from one week’s end to
the next, but I remember being terrified of him even so. I suppose
I saw Mother most evenings—she usually wafted into the nursery
after we children had been fed and bathed, so that we could see her
dressed for dinner. I think we were allowed to kiss her good night
sometimes.’

Frank stared at him incredulously. ‘I
suppose it was good that you didn’t fret for home, anyway,’ he
said, feeling that he should find something positive to say.

‘Oh, I fretted all right.’ Richard had a
distant expression on his face. ‘I remember crying my heart out
every night for weeks when I was first sent away. Not for Mother,
though. It was for my nurse. She was the nearest I had to what
you’d think of as a mother. But I was the youngest, so when I went
off to school she wasn’t needed any more. When I went home for the
holidays she’d gone. I’m sure Father gave her a suitable payment
when she left, and I believe she married some time later.’

His eyes met Frank’s, and he smiled again.
‘So perhaps you can see why I don’t spend a lot of time pining for
my family now.’

‘Gee, I never knew there were families like
that. I can’t credit a mother… sorry,’ Frank said awkwardly.

‘You can’t credit a mother who’d abandon her
seven-year-old to the tender mercies of a boarding school,’ Richard
finished for him. ‘No, I’m sure you can’t. I certainly can’t
imagine Mrs Kelly doing any such thing. But I don’t hold it against
Mother. She didn’t know any better.’

‘I suppose not.’

‘No, she didn’t. And I don’t think I did,
either—not till I met your family, and saw how things could be done
differently. Your way’s better, Frank. If I was ever to have
children, I rather think I’d like to bring them up as you do
yours.’

Frank let the subject lapse, a little
uncomfortable at having drawn such deeply personal recollections
from Richard. But he suspected the younger man was thinking much
the same as he was: if Richard wanted to give his children an
upbringing so different from his own, he would be well-advised to
choose a wife from the sort of family he so admired.

‘How’s that calf doing?’ Richard asked,
clearly eager to turn the conversation to other matters. ‘The one
you were worried about?’

‘Oh, she’s right as rain now. You wouldn’t
think she’d been frail when she was born. I nearly put her down—she
was such a runty little thing I thought she’d never last—but Beth
begged me to let her have a go at rearing it. She fed it up and
dosed it with Lord knows what. It’s all credit to her that the
calf’s so healthy now, she’s got a real way with animals. She was
with me when I delivered that one, that’s why she got attached to
it. I’ve told her that heifer’s hers—Jewel, she’s called it.’

‘That’s another thing that seems very
different to me about your family,’ Richard said. ‘I can’t imagine
either of my sisters’ ever being allowed anywhere near a calving
cow. Most people seem to think girls should be kept in ignorance of
such things.’

‘Well, I don’t know that it makes much
difference—Lizzie had seen enough calves being born before we got
married, and Lord knows how many I’d delivered, but we were still
scared silly when it looked as though I was going to have to
deliver Maudie by myself. Babies are a bit different from
calves.’

Richard laughed. ‘I’ll have to take your
word for that. Perhaps I could find out for myself next time it’s
calving season—would I be in your way if I came out and hovered
around while you were helping the cows?’

‘No, not a bit of it. Joey and me would be
glad of the company—Beth, too, if she’s hanging around. Then you
can tell me if it’s much different from babies. Do you deliver a
lot of babies?’

‘Not for quite a while. I used to in London,
and I’ve helped at a few deliveries in Auckland, too. Only the
difficult ones, of course—women prefer to be tended by other women
if possible. I can’t blame them for that.’

‘No, I can’t imagine Lizzie putting up with
that unless she was really crook. Don’t know that I’d like the idea
myself, some other man poking around in her,’ Frank admitted.

‘That’s how most husbands feel. I have an
extra disadvantage, too. It troubles women—and their husbands, come
to that—even more if… now, Frank, you mustn’t take advantage of my
saying this,’ Richard said, suddenly looking rather defensive.

‘Eh? No, of course I won’t,’ Frank said in
mild confusion.

‘Well, it’s an extra disadvantage that I’m
an unmarried man. Women seem to accept being tended by a doctor a
little more easily if the man’s married. I used to be called in to
help at a hospital for poor women in London, and then from time to
time I went to particularly difficult cases at the Magdalene homes
in Auckland. Homes for fallen women,’ he explained, seeing the
blank look on Frank’s face. ‘Penniless women, and disgraced ones,
can’t afford to stand on their dignity quite so much, poor
creatures. And if it’s a matter of forceps or worse, there isn’t a
great deal the midwives can do for them.’

‘All right, I won’t say it.’ Frank tried
hard to assume an expression of innocence. ‘I won’t say you need a
wife. Anyway,’ he added, relenting when he saw Richard’s slightly
hunted look, ‘I’ve no girls nearly old enough to be thinking about
getting married. I’m in no rush to be rid of any of them.’

‘I’m pleased to hear it,’ Richard said.

*

Teasing anyone but Lizzie did not come
naturally to Frank, and he said no more to Richard on the subject
of marriage. And Lizzie was quite aware that she had spoken of
Maudie’s charms often enough for anyone but a simpleton to have
grasped what a treasure her oldest daughter was.

Lizzie had weapons more subtle than words,
however. She made sure that Maudie was always sitting close to
Richard, whether at family dinners or soirées. She was careful
about Maudie’s clothes, though Frank cringed at the arguments this
tended to ignite between Lizzie and Maudie, with Lizzie constantly
veering towards the flamboyant while Maudie fought for the
understated. They usually managed to compromise on something that
satisfied them both, though often not before Maudie had earned
herself a session with the belt for what Lizzie considered
particularly outrageous cheek.

Lizzie had studied Richard’s reaction to the
various delicacies offered at the soirées, and when she had noted
the things he enjoyed most she made sure that they were served
whenever he came. She no longer felt the need to remind him
verbally what a good cook Maudie was, but she would not let him
forget how good Maudie’s food tasted.

After ensuring that Richard had heard
Maudie’s playing often enough to know what an accomplished young
lady she was, Lizzie let Lily do most of the playing. Even to
Lizzie’s ears, Lily’s playing gave more pleasure than Maudie could
ever hope to offer.

‘Do you think he’s getting the idea yet?’
Lizzie asked Frank the night before a soirée in March, six long
months after Richard had first come to the house.

‘He’s got the idea, all right,’ Frank said.
‘He’s just not too keen on getting married yet, that’s all. Don’t
rush the lad.’

‘He’s taking so long, though. Maudie’ll be
seventeen this year, you know.’

‘She’s got a while before she’s an old maid,
Lizzie. Leave them to it, Richard’ll see what a good catch she is
before too long. Let him take his time.’

‘He’s doing that, all right,’ Lizzie
grumbled.

*

At first it seemed it would be a soirée like
all the others that Richard had attended. There was to be the usual
generous supper, the usual mixture of family and guests, and the
usual musical entertainment. The difference was in Maudie.

Maudie’s eyes were bright with the
excitement of her first soirée since Lizzie had let her go into
adult clothing. She had a new dress for the occasion, and Lizzie
had let Amy talk her into choosing a fabric subtle enough not to
offend Maudie’s sense of style. It was made of silk in a pink so
pale as to be almost cream, full in the pintucked bodice and the
skirt, with a white lace collar and cuffs. The dress rustled as
Maudie twirled in front of her father to show it off to him. Frank
was startled to see how much more womanly Maudie’s figure had
suddenly become, until he realised that much of the effect was due
to her new corset accentuating her curves.