Curricle & Chaise (22 page)

The next few days were cold and wet enough to keep even Lydia safely indoors. On Friday morning, however, the unseasonably wintry weather gave way to a spring day of mild, bright sunshine in a deep blue sky. The sunshine served to brighten Lydia’s spirits considerably and she determined immediately on visiting her friend and suggesting they go for their ride.

She felt pretty in her riding dress and hat and it was with a light step that she made her way across to Netley Court.

‘Miss Ferdinand is in her dressing room, Miss,’ said the servant who let her in, ‘but you will find Miss Judith in the parlour, I think. I will let them know that you are here.’

Lydia made her way to the parlour, but it was empty. She wandered over to the window to wait for Fanny to come down. The minutes ticked by. She looked at the carriage clock on the mantelpiece. Perhaps her visit was not convenient today, or perhaps the servant had got waylaid and forgotten to tell her of her arrival. She began to feel somewhat uncomfortable and wondered what to do. It would be embarrassing for Fanny or Sir John to stumble across her, not knowing she was there. She had almost decided to let herself out again, and was actually in the process of crossing the parlour to do so, when the sound of voices reached her from the hall and Sir John and Mr Wyndham came into the room.

‘Miss Barrington – what a pleasant surprise.’

‘Aha my dear – well met, indeed. You are come to see Fanny I suppose? Come to do some riding?’ (Eyeing her up and down with evident approval.) ‘Aye, a good idea – make the most of the weather – excellent plan. Wyndham here is ab
out to ride out just now
. Fanny just getting dresse
d. Do you know - h
ave half a mind to join you myself. Hunting over for the season now. Missing the exercise. Aye, I think I’ll do that. Lovely day for a ride. I’ll call the groom...’

Lydia scarcely knew what to think. Relieved that she should not make an unwelcome third in an intimate party, she was not at all certain that she wanted to go riding with Sir John. For one thing, he was such an accomplished rider that he was bound to become bored and impatient within the first few minutes of her mounting the horse.  For another – well, it was such an unusual proposition and she was unable to rid her mind of the thought that he admired her – a thought that could only cause concern. The memory of Charles Abdale in remarkably similar circumstances made her blush and cringe at the same time. She could only hope that the outcome this time was somewhat less unpleasant.

There was little point in rueing the embarrassment of her situation – there was nothing she could do about it now. The prospect of a ride must be her solace. She made a mental note to make a firm engagement with Fanny before venturing to ride out with her again.

Sir John and Fanny soon emerged and the whole party went down to the stables together. Four horses were standing already saddled. Lydia was somewhat relieved to find that Starlight was standing quite placidly, despite her apparent lack of recent exercise, whilst the others were whinnying and pawing, obviously eager to be off.

Sir John himself insisted on helping her into the saddle. He held his black horse in check to walk on by her side.

‘You will find me a sadly awkward beginner, Sir John,’ apologised Lydia, trying (unsuccessfully) to laugh a little. ‘I am very much afraid that I will bore you with my slowness.’

‘Nonsense,’ was the loud reply. ‘No need for apologies. Ride nicely for a novice. Good style. Confidence. Straighten your back more and you will be riding like the rest of us in no time.’

‘I had a good teacher, sir,’ she felt constrained to say. ‘He, too, advised me to straighten my back. I made but a poor pupil, I’m afraid. I prefer to look about me than to concentrate on my style.’

Sir John threw back his head and bellowed out a hearty laugh.

‘Your style is well enough, my dear. Suits me very well. Find nothing wrong with you at all.’

Lydia pretended not to notice, although an annoying blush insisted on making its way insidiously up her face. It seemed to give her host a modicum of satisfaction. Finding that they were already at some distance from the others she made no reply, and dug her heels into the pony’s belly, the quicker to rejoin her friend.

Fanny turned and smiled as Lydia approached.

‘Is this not wonderful?’ she asked. ‘I find riding so invigorating that I never want to dismount.’

‘We had thought of going as far as the top of the down, Miss Barrington, if you feel you are up to the ride. It is not difficult, as such, although it can be a little steep in parts.’

Quickly weighing up the evils of a hard ride against those of remaining alone with Sir John she gave a brighter smile than her feelings warranted, and announced gaily: ‘Oh, certainly, I should be delighted to go as far. I am grown quite dull with being stuck indoors for so long – it has been far too wet to venture out into the hills. I will certainly ride on with you if you are happy to put up with my slowness.’

‘That’s the spirit, my dear. Fine ride. Enjoy it very much, I’ll be bound.’

The ride continued inexorably onwards. Lydia was already feeling distinctly saddle sore before they even began the steep ascent towards the top of the hill but she managed to put a brave face on it. And indeed, once they had reached the top she felt a genuine sense of achievement. The view from the top was magnificent, and with the bright sunshine slanting across the heathlands she felt her spirits rise again in spite of the growing sense of discomfort in her nether region. However, her heart quickly sank once more as Fanny declared her intention of taking the long route back home, citing the beauty of the  weather as the primary driver for her choice.

Lydia could have hoped for a shorter route home. She had never been so far on a horse before and was seriously concerned about her ability to remain even within earshot of her two eager companions. She hung on grimly. Sir John maintained his position at her side, his mount having worked off some of his earlier energy, and he was chattering away to her quite happily in his particularly inconsequential way:

‘Delighted you feel able to ride so far – very good for a beginner. Netley is a wonderful riding country. Born and bred here myself, of course. Wife was a local girl too, God bless her. Always liked the country. Scarcely ever went to Town, don’t you know...’

Fanny and Mr Wyndham appeared to be oblivious to everything other than themselves and were trotting along contentedly together a little way ahead.

Suddenly, however, Lydia’s pony stumbled and it was all she could do to prevent herself from tumbling off its back. She retained her seat and dignity just long enough to dismount without mishap (albeit at a somewhat more accelerated pace than normal), which was fortunate, as Sir John was at her side in an instant and would doubtless have attempted to catch her (with likely dire consequences both for him and for her) had she done so. He bent down to examine Starlight’s hoof.

‘Of all the bad luck,’ he muttered, managing quite nobly to keep back an oath. ‘The animal’s gone lame – too much exercise all at once, I daresay. No, no Miss Barrington – no apologies. Certainly not your fault, my dear – not your fault at all – unlucky thing – could have happened to anyone. But she’s certainly unfit for riding any further. Shocking shame. Err...you may like to ride with me on Warrior, perhaps?’

Lydia eyed up Sir John’s great stallion and shook her head, laughing.

‘There is nothing that would induce me to mount such a brute, Sir John,’ she said. ‘I should be off him before I was properly seated. He would certainly not take kindly to me as a passenger and despite his size he would make a very uncomfortable mount for the two of us! No – pray, do not concern yourself – I am fully able to walk the distance. I shall be perfectly all right, I assure you.’

Acknowledging the unsuitability of his original suggestion Sir John could do no less than remain on foot himself and walk on at her side.

‘Least I can do, my dear,’ he explained, walking rather close to her down the narrow, flinty path. ‘Annoying thing to happen – horse going lame. I hope your day’s not spoilt?’

‘You are all kindness, Sir John. I am perfectly happy to walk. I am only concerned for the pony. I hope she will be all right.’

‘No problem there, Miss Barrington. No need to worry your pretty little head over that. Only sorry to cause you inconvenience. Glad you enjoy a walk. Exercise – good for you. Brings a bloom to that cheek of yours. You must stay the way you are. I need no fireside airs from you.’

The path at that moment becoming steeper and Lydia being obliged to watch her footing on the rough stones she was able to use her concentration on this score as an excuse for ignoring his remarks. Truth to tell, she was not entirely displeased at the circumstances of her forced march as she was feeling quite stiff from riding so far. At least when walking she felt more in control of her direction; she could only wish that she could manipulate the conversation as well.

It was almost dinner time by the time they reached Netley Court. Lydia left her pony at the gate under the capable care of Mr Wyndham, who had returned to find out what had become of them, and then hurried back to the vicarage, where she knew she would have been missed.

She entered the door with a sigh of relief and found the whole family in the kitchen. Elizabeth embraced her as she entered, a happy smile on her face.

‘Lydia, my dear, congratulate us...the most wonderful news imaginable. It has today been confirmed. I am to have a child. I expect to be confined in the summer.’

The expectation of a baby at the vicarage made a material change to Lydia’s situation there. For one thing, the extra space necessarily taken up by a baby and nursemaid would have to be found from somewhere and the little house was already bursting at the seams. For another, the cost of food and clothing would place an extra strain on the Bridger finances which, from what Lydia knew of these already, would be difficult for them to bear. She had handed over all bar a few shillings of the money she had obtained for her necklace as soon as she had ar
rived at Netley but
there was no way in which this would last for very long. Once gone both she and Susan must be wholly dependent on her relatives, which she was very loath to be.

This placed the onus on her to think again ab
out her future. While her kind aunt and u
ncle were certain never even to hint at it she knew that they must be sorely concerned at the expense of keeping their nieces indefinitely. Lydia herself, failing to settle into the quiet life afforded by the vicarage as she felt she ought, was equally keen to move on. The problem defined, it was a less simple matter to come up with the solution. There were very few options open to her. Susan, she had to admit to herself, was never likely to be entirely self sufficient and this meant that she would need to find some way of earning enough money to keep both of them, and not just herself. On top of all this, the prospect of earning her living in the house of strangers – even if it were possible to save enough for them both, which was unlikely – was not altogether a tempting one.

It was at about this time, one chilly evening after the day’s tasks were done, that Lydia found herself
alone in the kitchen with her u
ncle. Elizabeth had retired early to bed, tired, and Susan had likewise retreated to the little bed which she shared with her sister.
Dr Bridger
was sitting by the fire. He was reading a new work by John de Morris which caused him to stop and ponder more than once during the course of an hour. During one such pause his eyes alighted upon Lydia. She, too, was thinking rather than reading, although she held a book in her hands. The glow of the fire seemed unusually absorbing and had captured her attention completely. It was some time before
her u
ncle spoke.

‘You are
very pensive this evening, my child
. Is something worrying you? Forgive me, but I cannot imagine that
you find ‘Letters to Literary L
adies’ quite as thought-provoking as it appears.’

L
ydia was roused from her thoughts
. She returne
d her u
ncle’s steady look uneasily.

‘Yes,
’ she said. ‘
I am a little concerned
.’

‘
Perhaps it is something I can help you with?
’

Lydia
hesitated, but seeing that her u
ncle had no intention of allowing her to ignore him, felt constrained to explain a little of what she felt. Thomas listened, without interrupting. Sitting quietly in the semi darkness, the glow and spitting of the fire masking the sights and sounds of the outside world, she found herself articulating concerns that she had only been half aware of herself. She could see an empty life stretching before her. She realised that she could not plan on the basis of making a good marriage and
y
et whilst she was more than prepared to take a position – such as housekeeper or governess – somewhere, she did not, in all honesty, think of herself as particula
rly well fitted for either situat
ion. ‘So I see myself as heading nowhere,’ she concluded, ‘yet I cannot truly see the way to achieving something with the rest of my life.’

Lydia lapsed into silence
. She had startled herself with what she had just articulated
. Thomas, too, said nothing for a few moments and took his turn at staring into the fire. The seconds ticked by steadily. She glanced at
her u
ncle. Although she had not meant to share her thoughts with him she could not help
but
feel relieved that she had done so. At least he was paying her the compliment of taking her concerns seriously.