Emily Goes to Exeter

3

I have heard with admiring submission the experience of the lady who declared that the sense of being well-dressed gives a feeling of inward tranquillity which religion is powerless to bestow.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

The Blue Room was comfortable and well appointed, with low rafters, chintz curtains at the window, and cheerful chintz hangings on the bed. A fire burnt brightly in the small hearth. There were two easy chairs in front of the fire, and it was into one of these chairs that Hannah thrust Emily. She then took off her cloak and hung it on a peg behind the door, along with her hat, before sitting down opposite the girl.

‘Now, what is all this about?’ said Hannah, trying to keep her vulgar gossipy eagerness in check. The girl was so very beautiful with those large violet eyes and auburn hair. Her face was a well-shaped oval with a small straight nose.

‘I think I should know to whom I am talking,’ said Emily with a pathetic attempt at hauteur.

‘I am Miss Hannah Pym, gentlewoman of Kensington,’ said Hannah firmly. Her servant days were behind her now, and she was determined not to stifle any confidences by revealing she had lately been in service.

‘And do you have relatives in Exeter, Miss Pym?’

‘No, I am simply travelling for the sake of travel.’

Despite her distress, Emily gave a reluctant laugh. What an odd lady this Miss Pym was with her strange eyes and crooked nose. ‘I cannot possibly imagine anyone travelling on the stage for fun,’ she said.

‘But I have already had a great many adventures,’ said Hannah, her eyes glowing gold in the firelight. ‘Just think. A real highwayman. A widow who is not the captain’s wife. And now you, not a boy but a pretty lady running away from a man who does not seem to want her after all.’

‘I do not believe him,’ said Emily. ‘It is a trick.’

‘Who is this Lord Harley?’

‘Lord Ranger Harley,’ said Emily in a clear voice, ‘is a rake and a libertine.’

‘How so?’

‘I happen to know, for my governess told me, that he has an opera dancer in keeping.’

‘Do you still have a governess?’ asked Miss Pym, momentarily diverted. ‘I would have thought you too old.’

‘I am eighteen,’ said Emily haughtily. ‘But Miss Cudlipp, that is my governess’s name, is dear to me. She stays as a sort of companion. She is very wise.’

Hannah sniffed. She thought that Miss Cudlipp was downright disloyal to her employers to pour scandal about Emily’s intended into the girl’s ears. ‘But this business about the opera dancer,’ said Hannah. ‘That is merely gossip. She cannot know for sure.’

‘Miss Cudlipp knows everything,’ said Emily. ‘Oh, what am I to do? He will force me to go back with him and marry him.’

‘Really, Miss Freemantle, if you will forgive me, he did not look at all the sort of man who would have to force any woman to marry him. He is very handsome and he is a lord. Is he rich?’

‘Very,’ said Emily in a hollow voice.

‘Then there you are. He cannot possibly want to marry you.’

‘He does not like to be thwarted. Miss Cudlipp said so.’

Hannah mentally sent Miss Cudlipp and all her sayings to the devil. ‘So who is Mr Peregrine Williams?’

Emily turned a delicate shade of pink. ‘He is charming, so very fair and beautiful. He has hair like gold and the bluest eyes you have ever seen. He writes poetry to me which Miss Cudlipp says rivals Mr Wordsworth.’

‘And did your parents introduce you to this paragon?’

‘Oh, no. It transpires that they had set their hearts on my marrying Harley a long time ago. I have not even made my come-out. I met Mr Williams when I was walking in the Park with Miss Cudlipp. I would not have noticed him, but Miss Cudlipp said, “Regard that beautiful young man who watches you so closely.” I looked across and he was standing under a tree, a book in his hand. He looked at me so intently, I began to tremble. But Miss Cudlipp with great bravery approached him and asked him why he was staring, and he said … do you know what he said?’

‘“Your beauty has pierced my heart,” or some such thing?’ suggested Hannah.

‘Well … not exactly, but he said, “The fair maiden yonder has struck my heart a blow. I am blinded by her beauty.”’

‘Fiddlesticks,’ muttered Miss Pym.

‘What did you say?’

‘I said “Fiddlesticks” because I thought the fire was dying down,’ said Hannah. ‘Go on about Mr Williams.’

‘He begged permission to call, and so I gave him my direction,’ said Emily. ‘But when he called, my parents refused to have him admitted. They then asked around the town about him and found that although of gentle birth, he has little money, and so I received a terrible punishment.’

‘They beat you?’

‘No, they took my novels.’

Very proper, thought Hannah. Aloud she said, ‘So you never saw him again?’

‘Of course I did! Miss Cudlipp saw to that.’

‘Yes, of course she would,’ said Hannah. ‘But, believe me, as we are going to be trapped in this hostelry for a few days, I would suggest you make a friend of this Lord Harley. You will find that not only does he not want to marry you, but that he might break that sad news very tactfully to your parents.’

Emily’s beautiful face took on a mulish look. ‘He will not change his mind.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I am very beautiful.’

Hannah was thoroughly shocked. ‘You must not say such a thing, my dear Miss Freemantle.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because anyone who praises her own looks immediately appears vain and shabby.’

‘Miss Cudlipp says—’

‘Never mind what Miss Cudlipp says. Did that governess encourage you to flee?’

‘Oh, yes. ’Twas most exciting. I climbed down from my bedroom window and she lowered the trunks down to me.’

‘And where did you get the men’s clothes?’

‘They are my brother’s. He is at sea. He is much older than I – twenty-five – and these are the clothes he wore when he was my age. He had not thrown them away.’

Emily yawned. ‘You had best get to bed,’ said Hannah, her mind racing. ‘You do have women’s clothes with you?’

‘Yes, in my trunk. I only have this one suit of men’s clothes and two clean shirts and neckcloths and two pairs of small-clothes and unmentionables.’

The door opened and two waiters came in bearing their trunks. Emily had two enormous trunks that made Hannah’s one serviceable trunk look modest.

Hannah tipped the waiters and then threw open the lid of her trunk and took out the clothes that had become soiled in the stream in Knightsbridge. ‘I will just take these down to the kitchen and see if anyone knows how to clean and press them,’ said Hannah.

Emily rose and yawned and staggered slightly. ‘I feel quite drunk,’ she said with a giggle.

Hannah picked up her soiled clothes and went down to the kitchen. Mrs Silvers, the landlord’s wife, was giving instructions to the cook. She took the clothes from Hannah and said she would see that the linen was washed and that the mud was brushed from the other items when they were dry, for they were all still damp from their soaking. Hannah then regaled the landlord’s wife with a vivid account of her adventures. Mrs Silvers listened open-mouthed and then ran to fetch her husband, and Hannah had to tell her story all over again. The landlord was greatly intrigued and said she told a rare tale. Producing a bottle of French brandy, he poured Hannah a measure. Hannah was beginning to feel like a sot. After a lifetime of abstinence, she seemed to be making up for it all in a short space of time.

But the brandy, instead of making her feel sleepy, seemed to activate her busy brain more.

She returned to the Blue Room. Emily was in bed and asleep, looking young and defenceless. Her discarded clothes were scattered all over the room.

Not a bad child, thought Hannah, but thoroughly spoilt. How amazing the amount of damage that can be done by one silly governess. She moved about picking up the clothes. Emily’s trunks were open. On the top of one was a man’s shirt and clean neckcloth. Hannah picked the shirt up and took it over to the fire, where a lamp was still burning on a side-table. It was ruffled and of the finest cambric. She returned to the trunk and without a shred of conscience searched its contents. She was relieved to find that Emily had spoken the truth. There were only a few items of men’s clothing. The rest was an assortment of beautiful gowns and underwear. Apart from Emily’s two trunks, there was a large hat box, lying open, hats spilling over the floor. Hannah clucked in irritation and carried them over to the wardrobe and put them on the capacious upper shelf. Among the hats was the man’s wig. No doubt Emily had meant to use it as part of her disguise and had cut her hair short instead. Hannah carried it to a wig-stand and then studied it. It was a fine wig of real hair, white and curled and tied at the back with a black silk ribbon.

She returned to Emily’s trunks and took out dresses and pelisses and mantles and hung them away and then arranged the underwear in the top half of the chest of drawers. Then she opened her own modest trunk and put her own things away. She carried her hairbrush and pin-box to the toilet table. It was already crammed with silver-topped bottles of lotions and creams, brushes, combs and bone pins, Emily having unpacked her toilet things. The towels were damp and had been thrown on the floor, and it appeared Emily had used up both cans of hot water.

Hannah rang the bell and gave the chambermaid the empty cans and basin of dirty water and the soiled towels and asked for a replacement.

She kept on working until everything was put away and the trunks and bandbox stowed under the bed. The maid returned with fresh towels and hot water. Hannah knew that such luxuries would be put on the bill and was determined Emily should pay for them.

Her gaze fell on that wig, gleaming whitely on the wig-stand. She picked it up, then a clean neckcloth, and then the cambric shirt, and made her way downstairs and asked where she might find the lawyer, Mr Fletcher. She was told he was sharing the Red Room – ‘Top of the stairs and turn left’ – with Lord Harley.

Hannah went up to the Red Room and, forgetting that she was no longer a servant but a guest at the inn, failed to knock, but simply turned the handle and opened the door.

There was a squawk of dismay from Mr Fletcher. The lawyer was stark naked, sitting in a hip-bath in front of the fire. Lord Harley was scrubbing his back.

Hannah retreated.

She waited outside the door, and after a few moments Lord Harley came out and closed the door behind him. ‘What is it, Miss Pym? And do you never knock?’

The answer to that was, ‘No, good servants never knock,’ but Hannah had no intention of letting Lord Harley or anyone else know she had been a servant.

‘I am sorry, my lord,’ said Hannah. ‘I am sleepy and forgot.’

He thought she looked remarkably wide awake, and was further amazed that the sight of a naked man had not even raised a blush to this spinster’s cheek. He could not know that Hannah was accustomed, from her days in the lower ranks of servants, to coming across gentlemen in the buff.

Hannah held out the wig, shirt, and neckcloth. ‘Miss Freemantle will not be needing these items, and I thought Mr Fletcher might appreciate a fresh change of shirt and perhaps a new wig. Mr Fletcher is thin and Miss Freemantle is slim and I felt sure the shirt would fit.’

Lord Harley’s lips curled in amusement. Poor Mr Fletcher. There had been no doubt that Mr Fletcher was slightly ripe. Lord Harley had cajoled him into taking a bath, not wanting to share the bed with a smelly stranger. ‘You had best give these things to me,’ he said, opening the door again to enter. ‘Tact is called for. Wait there.’

‘I have come upon some fresh articles of clothing,’ said Lord Harley, putting shirt, wig and neckcloth on a chair beside the bath. ‘Pray give me your soiled linen and I will take it to the kitchen for washing.’

‘Very well,’ said Mr Fletcher, trying to cover himself modestly with a large bar of soap. ‘But these things were washed last month.’

‘Another washing won’t harm them,’ said Lord Harley. ‘Do you have fresh linen?’

‘In my trunk,’ said Mr Fletcher, feeling like a schoolboy.

Lord Harley searched in it and found items which he noticed were actually fresh and clean. He scooped up Mr Fletcher’s discarded underwear and shirt. ‘Do not wait up for me,’ he ordered. ‘Leave the bath and I shall send a couple of waiters up to take it away.’

Mr Fletcher nodded dumbly. He was not insulted. He thought this bathing thing was a mad foible of the aristocracy, but he was too overwhelmed at the honour of being looked after by a real-live lord to protest.

Lord Harley went out and joined Hannah on the landing. ‘I will take these from you,’ said Hannah briskly.

‘No, I shall come with you. It is early yet.’

He followed Hannah to the kitchen and watched as she gave orders for the clothes to be washed and pointed to a couple of minute tears and asked that they might be stitched.

‘Put it on my bill,’ said Lord Harley to the landlord, who was sitting at the kitchen table eating a late supper. Hannah stifled a sigh of relief. She was thrifty by nature and her recent elevation to the ranks of the middle class had made her realize that five thousand pounds had to be guarded carefully. ‘Is there anyone in the coffee room?’ Lord Harley asked.

‘No, your honour,’ said the landlord, Mr Silvers. ‘They’s all abed.’

‘Then have a bottle of brandy sent up. Miss Pym and I have much to discuss.’

Hannah’s eyes flashed green with excitement. But although she was happy to let the thought of drinking brandy with a lord go to her head, she was worried about the effects of so much alcohol, and when they were seated in the coffee room before the fire, she asked for only a little to be poured for her.

The wind howled ferociously outside, and snow whispered busily against the glass of the bay window that overlooked the courtyard of the inn.

‘Nasty weather,’ said Lord Harley. ‘I fear it will be a few days before any of us can move.’

‘Yes, indeed,’ said Hannah happily. She felt she had walked out of the wings on to the centre stage for the first time in her life. There was so very much to interest her in the other guests.

‘Now to Miss Freemantle,’ said Lord Harley, stretching out his booted legs to the fire. They were very handsome legs, Hannah noticed. Hannah firmly believed that any gentleman with good legs was set for life. No one bothered about his face so long as he had good legs.

‘Has she spoken to you of this sad affair?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ said Hannah. ‘It appears her head was filled by a lot of rubbish about you by her governess, a Miss Cudlipp. This Miss Cudlipp told Miss Freemantle you had an opera dancer in keeping.’

‘The deuce she did! And does that make me a monster?’

‘To an impressionable young girl who has not yet made her come-out and has had no influence on her mind other than that given it by novels and by one addle-pated governess – yes.’

‘What a coil,’ he mused. ‘I had planned to marry, to settle down, you know how it is. My aunt sent me a miniature of the Freemantle chit with a long story about how the girl had seen me in the Park and had fallen instantly in love. Miss Freemantle is from a good background. I thought it time to marry. My affections were not engaged. Mr and Mrs Freemantle came to see me. My lawyers met their lawyers. All was arranged. I thought it time to call and see this maiden who was so enamoured of me. The house was in an uproar. Maiden fled. Aunt had lied. Governess interrogated. Yes, she is a vastly silly woman. At last, parents decide the girl has gone to Exeter to visit her old nurse. I thought that if I took the stage myself and asked at inns and posting-houses on the road, I might catch up with her. Why on earth does she think I might want to marry her now?’

‘Because she is so very beautiful.’

‘Did she say that?’

‘I think it was more the voice of Miss Cudlipp speaking in her head.’

‘Talk some sense into her, Miss Pym, I beg of you. She might do something silly, like running off into the snow.’

‘I shall do my best,’ said Hannah, ‘but the damage done by a silly governess is hard to counteract in a short space of time.’

‘What takes you to Exeter, Miss Pym?’

‘I have never seen Exeter.’

‘I do not understand.’

‘I have a wish to travel,’ said Hannah, clasping her long, thin fingers.’

‘On the common stage?’

‘The stage-coaches are not common to me,’ said Hannah. ‘I used to watch them going along the Kensington Road. All that motion and adventure.’

‘You live in Kensington?’

‘Yes, at Thornton Hall.’

Lord Harley looked at her curiously. ‘You must be one of the Clarences.’

‘Distantly related, my lord,’ said Hannah, quickly lowering her eyes.

‘Indeed? And which branch of the family would that be?’

Hannah felt a stab of panic. The aristocracy and gentry knew everything about everyone. It was their way of making sure that no interloper or adventurer broke into their gilded ranks. There were ladies, Hannah knew, who did little else but discuss families and relations.

She looked miserably into her brandy glass and prayed for inspiration.

‘You are not running away as well?’ asked Lord Harley sharply.

No reply.

‘Come, I shall find out, you know. Clarence died only recently, and I am a friend of his brother, Sir George.’

‘I lied,’ said Hannah miserably. ‘I was the housekeeper at Thornton Hall for years and years. Mr Clarence left me five thousand pounds in his will. It has always been my dream to travel and see the world.’

‘There was no need to lie to me.’

Hannah raised her eyes. ‘There was every need,’ she said passionately. ‘Servants, my lord, are the most despised class in England. Oh, I have heard the ladies talk about us often in the days when Mrs Clarence used to entertain. Hard as we work, we are regarded as some sort of parasite. The tradesmen and artisans despise us too. They consider the whole servant class lazy and unskilled. You ask me to talk sense to Miss Freemantle. If that young lady realized for a moment she was talking to a servant, then she would not listen to a word I said.’

He looked at her thoughtfully. ‘Strange as it may seem, Miss Pym, there was a Pym in my family, a fourth cousin, recently dead, of the Surrey Pyms, the last of the line. I will make you a present. Use your good sense with Miss Freemantle, and you may claim me as kinsman to all who care to listen.’

‘It is of no use,’ said Hannah. ‘My voice …’

‘What is up with your voice?’

‘There is a certain coarseness of accent.’

‘My dear Miss Pym, as a lady of your years should know, it is only recently that the ton started ruthlessly shedding their regional accents. I myself went to see a great-aunt in Edinburgh and could not make out a word she was saying. You are over-sensitive on the subject of rank. Banish it from your mind. If it helps, you are now Miss Pym of Surrey.’

‘I felt very wicked lying like that,’ said Hannah in a small voice. ‘Perhaps it is best to tell the truth, and if people are of any worth at all, they will not despise me. Sir George did not. He … he took me to Gunter’s.’

‘Well, there you are. But the world is a wicked and vain place, and there are many misguided people like Emily Freemantle. Think on it. You may use relationship to me as you think fit.’ He gave her a charming smile. ‘You have perhaps too much character for a gentlewoman and too much concern for others. Why, for example, did you think to bring poor little Mr Fletcher clean linen and a new wig? They were Miss Freemantle’s, I assume, and I am also sure she would never have thought of such a thing.’

Hannah put her hands to her face in sudden consternation. ‘I have stolen from her,’ she whispered.

‘She has no need of them. Tell her I commanded you to find something. But you have not answered my question.’

‘Oh, dear.’ Hannah put down her glass. ‘It is this wicked evil drink, my lord. It made me feel so confident, so assured, that it did not dawn on me until now that I was stealing.’

‘Tell her first thing in the morning, and if she is enraged, let me know and I will hand everything back, even if I have to rip it off Mr Fletcher. But what was in your mind?’

‘I feel Mr Fletcher is a bachelor and has never had anyone to care for him,’ said Hannah slowly. ‘I do not like that Captain Seaton. I suspect he is an adventurer and after little Mrs Bisley’s money. You see, I feel she was married to Mr Bisley and probably very fond of him for a long time. She is one of those ladies who rely totally on a gentleman for their very existence. The captain cleverly moved into the vacuum created by Mr Bisley’s death. Mrs Bisley should have more time to mourn. As it was, I think she saw in the disgusting captain a broad shoulder to lean on. Mr Fletcher has a neglected air, neglected in body and spirit. I do not think he has much money, and I do not think anyone has ever cared for him. I thought that perhaps if he were arrayed in clean linen and a good wig, then perhaps …’

Her voice trailed away. Lord Harley roared with laughter, his black eyes dancing. ‘I’ faith, Miss Pym, you are a travelling matchmaker.’

‘It was the drink,’ said Hannah in a hollow voice.

‘Poor Mr Fletcher,’ said Lord Harley with a grin. ‘Into what masterful hands he has fallen. I scrub his back and you make over his clothes. Let well alone, Miss Pym, and heed my advice. Never think for a moment you can alter the course of people’s affections. Now we shall have some sobering coffee and go to bed.’

He rang the bell. No one answered its summons. The inn was quiet apart from the roaring of the wind in the chimney.

At last the landlord appeared, looking worried. ‘Beg pardon, my lord,’ he said, ‘but the maids went to their homes in the town as they usually do, along with the waiters, me not having the room to house them here. I got the ostlers to help them through the storm. There’s not one here now but me and missus, and she is feeling poorly. I myself will bring you anything you desire.’

‘Go to bed, landlord,’ said Hannah quickly before Lord Harley could say anything.. ‘I shall fetch coffee myself. You will need your strength for the morrow.’

‘Thank you, mum, but it don’t seem fitting.’

‘Anything is fitting in such a storm as this. Pray retire,’ said Hannah, ‘and I shall look at your wife tomorrow and see if she needs help.’

When the landlord had bowed his way out, stammering his thanks, Hannah said, ‘I shall fetch the coffee now, my lord.’

‘You are no longer a servant, Miss Pym. It appears we must all be our own servants, and it will do us no harm. Lead the way!’

He followed Hannah through a long narrow corridor and then through a green baize door and so to the kitchen of the inn, which was at the back. Here the noise of the storm was worse than ever. He sat at the table and watched as Hannah ground coffee beans and then made a jug of coffee. She was arranging cups on a tray when he said languidly, ‘We will drink it here. Are you never tired, Miss Pym?’

‘I am fortunate in needing very little sleep,’ said Hannah. ‘Oh, my lord, what a wonderful day it has been. God is very good.’

‘You amaze me, Miss Pym. To my mind we have endured a day which would make most sober people doubt the existence of their Maker.’

‘But they have not been starved for adventure, as I,’ said Hannah.

They fell into a companionable silence. Lord Harley felt he knew why Sir George, a high stickler if ever there was one, had decided to take the housekeeper to Gunter’s. There was something childlike about this Miss Pym, an innocence that was strangely endearing. He thought of Emily Freemantle and his face hardened. What a fool he had been to settle for an arranged marriage. It was not that he did not believe in love. Several of his friends had been fortunate to find it. But he himself never had and was sure now he never would. All he wanted was to settle down with some amiable female and bring up a family. But the next time, he would go about it all the time-honoured way and court and get to know the lady first.

He drained his coffee and thanked Hannah and stood up and stretched his arms above his head. Then he exclaimed, ‘I forgot about Mr Fletcher’s bath, and there is no one to take it down.’

‘I shall help you,’ said Hannah.

And so it was. While Mr Fletcher slept curled up in the large bed, Hannah and Lord Harley, on Hannah’s instructions, opened the bedroom window, which was fortunately on the leeward side of the inn, and poured out jugs of dirty bath water into the snow. And then Lord Harley lugged the empty bath down to the kitchen, where he left it propped against the back door.

Hannah went to her own room, washed in now cold water, changed into a voluminous night-gown, tied her nightcap under her chin, and crept into bed beside Emily.

Lord Harley was right, she thought sleepily, there was no need to interfere. But Emily was so beautiful and he was so handsome and Emily’s parents would be overjoyed if they were to marry after all and that silly Miss Cudlipp would be confounded.

And, still making plans in her head, Hannah fell asleep.