The Hamiltons of Ballydown (12 page)

The gangways were run back. The last hawsers cast off. The throb of the engines deepened as the gap between ship and quay widened minute by minute. Soon they were moving down channel and the small figures still waving vigorously grew smaller and smaller. Sarah could contain herself no longer. ‘This is such an adventure, Ma. Aren’t we lucky?’ she said, her eyes sparkling as she turned towards her.

Rose stretched an arm round her and hugged her, but said nothing, her own eyes misted with the pain of parting. She’d promised herself not to cry, but for the last half hour she’d been far from sure she’d manage it.

Yes, indeed, they were lucky. Very lucky to be able to afford the comfort of elegant travelling dresses, cabs and first class cabins, porters and stewards to spirit away their cases. It was a far cry from her only other crossing, a very young servant from Currane Lodge, sleeping under a blanket in a communal dormitory far below the main deck.

She looked around at the berthed ships that lined the harbour, the tall construction of ladders and walkways surrounding the invisible shape of the
Oceanic
, the one they all referred to now as
Jamie’s ship.
Jamie too had been lucky for James Sinton had
made his apprenticeship possible long before his father could have afforded it.

But what was luck? Could they ever have accepted this invitation if John hadn’t worked so hard, extending his knowledge and producing the improvements in textile machinery Hugh had then urged him to patent. The royalty from John’s patents had paid all their expenses and ensured they would feel no unease at Ashley Park on account of dress.

So why was it people who worked just as hard were thrown out of work? Or struck down by illness? What would have happened to her and the family these last months if John hadn’t had the money to pay Mrs Rea, or a good friend like Elizabeth to find her in the first place?

She sighed. Such questions were quite beyond her. Perhaps the only thing she could do was give thanks for her good fortune and make sure she never forget those that good fortune had passed by.

The figures on the dockside finally grew so small it was only an act of faith to continue to wave. She turned towards the bows. Ahead of them the red lights of the marker buoys winked along the deep water channel as the vessel moved through calm water heading for the open sea.

On the northern shore of the lough the dark Antrim Hills raised their craggy summits above the steeply sloping fields. To the south, the softer shores of Down caught gleams of evening sunshine,
the light picking out the ripening wheat, broad russet patches glinting in a green landscape. Beside them, fields of stubble lay like pale patches in a rich tapestry, still untouched by new growth after the hay harvest.

She turned her face towards the open sea, the breeze off the water a delight, the cry of seabirds an evocative sound, as haunting as the litany of names, the promontories and protrusions of the Antrim coast, Sarah was reciting with enthusiasm. Soon they would reach the open sea and their course would turn southwards, crossing the Irish Sea in the night to arrive at Liverpool in the early dawn.

‘Ma, look, that must be it.’

Leaning back on the comfortable upholstery of the family coach, Rose glanced over her shoulder briefly.

‘Yes, we’re nearly there,’ she said gratefully, wearied not so much by the journey, but by the continuous excitements of ship and train, docks and harbours, and the unknown English countryside with its villages, towns and cities.

‘It’s bigger than Buckingham Palace,’ Sarah protested.

‘No, it’s not,’ said Hannah quietly. ‘It’s much wider than Buckingham Palace with those wings at both ends, but it’s only two storeys in the middle even if it does look like a Greek temple.’

Whether the coachman whipped up the horses to make a splendid arrival or whether the four matched greys scented home and the comfort of their own stable, Rose didn’t know, but the last mile or more through the park was accomplished in a very short time. The coach passed between formal gardens, rounded a huge fountain where mythical beasts supported a series of stone bowls surmounted by great jets of water arcing into the blue sky. They halted in the shadow of a wall that concealed the sweep of stone steps leading up to the entrance in the pillared south front.

Hardly had the younger of the two coachman opened the door, pulled down the step and offered his hand for Rose to alight, than a small, square figure came running across the gravel, the skirt and sleeves of her white gown flapping energetically around her.

‘Rose, Rose, my dear. I’m so glad to see you,’ Lady Anne exclaimed, as she threw her arms around her. ‘Are you exhausted? I promise to let you go and rest the moment I’ve kissed you all. I’ve been watching with Teddy’s binoculars for ages. Hannah, what a lovely dress,’ she went on, embracing her vigorously. ‘And Sarah. Your mother was right, your curls are just perfect for Mr Darcy. You must scowl for me when you’ve all had a rest,’ she said, hugging her.

‘Rose dear, can you manage the steps if Huntley
and I give you an arm each, or shall I send for a chair and two stout lads?’ she asked, as a cluster of servants descended on the coach and disappeared with all the luggage.

Sarah and Hannah exchanged glances as they followed Lady Anne and their mother up the long flight of shallow steps to the broad terrace that lay in front of the entrance hall.

‘She’s all right,’ mouthed Sarah, as the sturdy figure ahead of her wrapped a protective arm round their mother.

‘Who do you think Teddy is?’ Hannah whispered, quite certain she would not be heard over the sound of her mother’s laughter.

Whatever anxieties Sarah and Hannah might have had on their arrival at Ashley Park, many of them were immediately laid to rest. Lady Anne saw their mother quietly settled in her room to be left undisturbed until it was time to change for dinner, then took them to their own rooms.

‘The posh visitors rooms are all at the front,’ she confided, as she marched them from Hannah’s bedroom to Sarah’s, then threw open the door of their own small, bright sitting room overlooking the gardens. ‘They’re huge and frightfully gloomy, so I’ve put you all on this side. I hope you won’t be bored,’ she went on anxiously. ‘I haven’t planned any outings until your mother is feeling better, but
you can explore the house and the park. There’s quite a lot of it. Go where you like and do ask for anything you need. I’ve left some things here for wet days, but I hope the weather is going to be lovely for you,’ she said, pausing, as a housemaid approached and curtseyed to her and then to each of her guests.

Lady Anne introduced Betty, one of the housemaids, a sober girl with an unfortunate squint, who was to be shared between them.

‘She’s very strict,’ she confided, when Betty went off to do their unpacking. ‘She’ll scold you if you get grass stains on your white muslins, but I’m hoping by the end of the summer you’ll have taught her to laugh. Poor girl, she doesn’t seem to know how.’

For a whole week, before any of Lady Anne’s family arrived home, the two girls did exactly as she’d suggested. They explored the house, took long walks in the park and sought out all the tracks and trails where she still rode each morning.

Sarah made up her mind to find out everything she could about the running of such a huge establishment. She found her way to the kitchen, the stables, the bake house and the laundry rooms and was delighted to discover the servants were open and friendly. She interviewed them assiduously, asked dozens of questions and recorded her observations and discoveries in her diary.

She was thrilled to find so many new things to study. She walked the length of each of the
greenhouses and discovered a special pit for raising melons. She found pineapples and peaches ripening and a huge old vine, so heavily laden it had been propped up with billets of wood to stop it bringing down the wall where it had flourished for over a century.

Beyond the house and stables lay the gas plant which supplied the kitchens and a newly installed electric generator. She made repeated visits to the laundry, the workshop and forge, the carpenter’s shed and the kitchens, determined to miss out no part of this self-sufficient world.

As for Hannah, she’d found what she liked best at Ashley Park on their very first morning. A part of the flower garden had not yet been redeemed from decades of neglect, but Lady Anne had insisted that at least the former paths be re-opened. There, Hannah had spent part of every morning with her sketch pad and watercolours.

The richness and profusion delighted her. She loved the roses and clematis that had run riot, climbed shrubs and trees and sent skywards great arching shoots laden with bloom, and the borders, once so carefully graded and pruned which had long since broken all bounds. She found magnificent lilies towering over tiny seedlings that pushed out on to the paths, releasing their perfumes at the merest touch of a passing dress.

‘Well, what did you discover after you left me?’
asked Hannah, as she set about stretching fresh sheets of paper for her water colours, one afternoon after lunch.

‘Mangles,’ said Sarah abruptly. ‘Taller than I am. Made in Birmingham and specially designed for very large sheets. They come out so dry even in winter you can iron them and hang them over the ceiling airers to finish them off. You don’t even have to hang them out,’ she added, sitting down at the table and reaching for her notebook. ‘Which is a good thing. After a house party, there might be as many as thirty pairs.’

‘How did you find out all that?’

‘I asked one of the laundry maids,’ she replied abruptly.

‘Do you like it here, Sarah?’

Sarah was frowning fiercely, but she knew from long experience that neither frowns nor smiles were an accurate guide to what her sister was feeling. The only way to be sure was to ask.

‘Yes,’ she said quickly. ‘But I couldn’t live here,’ she added after a long pause. ‘Could you?’

Hannah laughed and put her brush down.

‘I don’t think Da is likely to inherit an earldom,’ she said with a smile.

‘Of course not,’ Sarah retorted. ‘But I asked if
you
could live here. Live this sort of life in a place like this.’

‘Yes, I think I could,’ said Hannah slowly. ‘What
about you?’ she asked, watching her sister carefully.

‘No, not me,’ Sarah said, shaking her head vigorously. ‘Too enclosed. Shut off from the world. From ordinary everyday things.’

‘But what’s more ordinary than dirty sheets?’

‘There’s nothing ordinary about having thirty pairs and your own small laundry to deal with them,’ she came back at her.

‘But you
do
like being here, don’t you?’ Hannah asked again.

‘Oh yes, it’s great,’ Sarah beamed unexpectedly. ‘I love Lady Anne and she’s so good to Ma. I’ll come here anytime she asks us, but I couldn’t
live
here.’

Hannah smiled, satisfied. Only Sarah would see the need to make such a distinction. She opened her paintbox and began to work on the morning’s sketches while Sarah turned to writing up her notes.

For half an hour the silence was broken only by the scuffles of the gardeners who were hoeing the flower beds that lay on both sides of the terrace below the open windows.

‘It’s no use, Hannah,’ Sarah said, throwing down her pencil in disgust. ‘I can’t get it all down. There’s just too much detail. Too much to explain, even if I label all the sketches.’

‘But you’ve got plenty of time, Sarah,’ the older girl replied, soothingly. ‘Look how much you’ve done in less than a week. Multiply by eight and think how much that will be. I’m sure you’ll have
covered everything about the house and garden by then,’ she said encouragingly.

‘Yes, I suppose you’re right,’ she said reluctantly. ‘But words leave out so much. How would you like to have to describe just in words that lovely bit of garden you’ve found?’ she demanded, getting up and peering over Hannah’s shoulder at the pattern of colour shaping on the page. ‘I’m not as patient as you. I couldn’t do proper sketches of
everything
.’

The answer to Sarah’s problem came quite unexpectedly the following afternoon when Lady Anne sent Betty to ask the two girls to have tea with her and Rose in her own sitting room overlooking the park.

When they arrived, they found the conversation had moved once again to Kerry, a topic Sarah encouraged by every possible means, for she never tired of hearing about the summer of ’75 and how Rose and Lady Anne had each found the love of their life.

‘Do you remember that sweet little veil we ordered from Dublin?’ Lady Anne demanded, looking up at Rose as she poured tea for them all.

‘I don’t have to remember it,’ she replied smiling. ‘I still have it. Very carefully wrapped in linen. It has only yellowed slightly and all the little pearls are still there.’

‘Goodness, Rose, I can still see you in that veil. You looked lovely.’

‘Yes, she did,’ Sarah agreed. ‘Could we possibly see your pictures of Ma and Da?’ she asked politely. ‘I’m sure Mr Blennerhasset took some for you as well as for them.’

‘Mr Blennerhasset? My goodness, Sarah, I’d completely forgotten him. He was one of my sister’s admirers, but she turned him down. She turned all of them down,’ she explained, with a wry look at Rose. ‘I haven’t thought of him for years.’

‘Ma said I could bring his book with me. I thought perhaps you might like to see it,’ said Sarah tentatively.

‘How very thoughtful of you, my dear. I should
love
to see it. What a good idea. Do you like photographs?’ Lady Anne asked, looking at her with a slight, puzzled frown.

‘Oh yes,’ she replied quickly, her eyes sparkling. ‘I should love to take masses of photographs. Specially here. I could get so much more in than in a sketch but …’

‘Well, if you haven’t brought your Kodak, or if you haven’t got one, we can soon put that right,’ Lady Anne declared. ‘Teddy must have three or four of them by now. He used to have a huge wooden contraption with brass handles and long legs,’ she said laughing, ‘but now they’ve got smaller, so he says. I’m sure you can have one he’s not using, Sarah. He’ll be
so
delighted you’re interested.’