Christina Hollis (12 page)

‘They can certainly do enough of that,’ Madeleine observed, wriggling around in her seat to watch.

The Pettigrews had Adamson cornered in the porch. While Albert Pettigrew laughed and thumped him on the back, little Mrs Pettigrew simpered coyly.

‘I suppose it’s only natural that the Pettigrews should want to find a good husband for Kitty.’ Mistress Constance observed her son trying to make his escape. ‘The disadvantage is that they make no secret of the fact.’

Finally the church quartet wheezed into an unsteady anthem and Adamson was able to break away. Taking his place beside his mother, he then had to endure Pettigrew smiles and knowing nods all through the service.

The evening was warm, the congregation small. Unable to follow the service, Madeleine soon found proceedings as dull as the rest of the congregation did.

Unlike Albert Pettigrew, she did at least manage to stay awake. Every so often the congregation would chant responses, which made Madeleine feel uncomfortable and left out as she could not follow. Instead she could only gaze about the well-scrubbed wood-and-water church.

The congregation was as interested in Madeleine as she was in them. Covert glances flew about the church in all directions, but only when Madeleine went so far as to use her prayer book as a fan did the curious stares turn to anything like disapproval.

Mistress Constance stopped her silently, but with an understanding smile. The congregation smiled too, and were satisfied.

Madeleine was relieved to get out of the church with its dusty scents and confusing rituals of standing up, sitting down and kneeling. In the dimpsy light outside bats were joining the swifts, dipping and flickering about the tombstones and waterside trees.

Without pausing in his stilted conversation with the Pettigrews, Adamson took Madeleine’s arm and tucked it into the crook of his own again. She was astonished, and didn’t know what to do except look at Mistress Constance helplessly.

‘Come along with me, dear.’ Mistress Constance took Madeleine’s free hand and detached her from Adamson’s grasp. ‘Don’t be too long, Philip! We’re starting for home without you!’

‘No need! No need!’ Pettigrew’s great turnip of a face broke into beaming smiles. ‘Can’t have two fair ladies walking while the missis and me rattle around in this great carriage!’

Madeleine was greatly relieved when the Adamsons finally agreed to be driven home. She would be safe from the cows, and it would give her feet a rest.

They climbed into the Pettigrews’ carriage. His coachman at once set the horses into another rollicking trot, bouncing the passengers about like peas on a drum. Madeleine was beside herself with excitement. She had not realised that travelling could be such fun.

Mr Pettigrew was equally delighted at someone being so impressed with his carriage and horses.

In no time at all the carriage was slowing down as they approached the imposing double gates of Willowbury. Madeleine was disappointed that their trip was to be over so soon, especially as the Adamsons hadn’t even begun to enjoy themselves yet.

Mr Pettigrew gave a little cough, but Mistress Constance anticipated him.

‘Thank you both so much for the transport, dear Mr and Mrs Pettigrew. So kind. I hope we will be seeing you again at the service on Sunday?’

‘Ah, but a trip’s not half done ‘till it’s over, Mistress Constance. We can’t let you walk all that way along your drive. It’ll only take a moment to drop you right at the door!’

‘Thank goodness for that. My feet won’t take any more walking today!’

At that Madeleine received a sharp elbow in the ribs from both Adamson and his mother.

‘Of course we would be delighted for you to come up to the house.’ Mistress Constance smiled at the Pettigrews, showing all her teeth. ‘You’ll surely step inside for a glass of sherry wine?’

Unseen by the Pettigrews, Mistress Constance jabbed Madeleine in the ribs once more. She wouldn’t be so quick to encourage the Pettigrews again, but the damage was already done for that evening.

When Higgins opened the front door of Willowbury a fragrance of roasting meat drifted out in a faint whisper. Madeleine’s mouth began to water, but Higgins had some bad news for them all. He looked the Pettigrews up and down, then gave a rueful smile.

‘Cook’s apologies, madam, but in this heat it’s all she can do to render down a few bones for the dogs. She’s gone off to bed with one of her heads.’

‘Very well, Higgins. Some sherry wine for us all in the summer drawing-room, then,’ Mistress Constance said mildly, stripping off her gloves. ‘I don’t think one needs much food in this warm weather in any case. Do you not find that to be so, Mrs Pettigrew?’

Adamson crept up behind Madeleine as they went into the drawing-room and caught hold of her firmly by the arm.

‘If you would all excuse us both for a moment, Mademoiselle Madeleine can fetch a few gifts for our guests from the larder while I check on Cook...’

Once they were both outside and the door firmly closed, Adamson rounded on Madeleine.

‘What on earth did you think you were doing? How could you be so stupid? We’ll never get rid of them now!’

The hall was dusky, lending sinister dark glints to his eyes as he pushed her along towards the kitchen.

‘And, mademoiselle, you would do well to remember the adage:

“A whistling woman, like a crowing hen

Is neither good for God nor men.”‘

‘But I wasn’t...’

‘You were about to! You had put your hands behind your back as you always do—’

‘But I like whistling. Nobody’s ever complained before!’

‘That is because we mind our manners,’ Adamson snapped stiffly.

Madeleine stood her ground and pulled a face behind his back as he went to pick up a tinder-box from the hall table.

‘The Pettigrews are so awful, Master Philip. Whistling might get rid of them. Had you thought of that?’

‘It’s your fault they’re here in the first place.’

He moved to light candles about the hall. Madeleine watched his gaunt face being illuminated but not warmed by the glow and was puzzled.

‘Then why did you ask them in? And can’t you tell them it’s time to go when you want to get rid of them?’ She bit her lip sharply. ‘Oh—I know. They must be your landlords!’

‘Of course they aren’t, you silly little goose,’ Adamson hissed fiercely. ‘Don’t you understand anything? I owe Pettigrew a great deal of money. Although he’s given me his word never to say anything, he’s just the sort to let something slip in front of Mother—’

‘All the more reason to tell him to go, then.’

Adamson exhaled noisily through his teeth in fury.

‘How can I? The Pettigrews are our guests, because you as good as invited them in!’

As he spoke, Adamson grasped Madeleine by the upper arms and gave her a little shake. There was no doubting the gravity of his words.

‘French society must be a bear-garden compared with England. You would be well advised to keep your mouth shut in future. Understand?’

He was scowling fiercely, and all trace of humanity had gone from his expression. There was none of the gentle look he had used towards her in front of the Pettigrews.

‘Shouldn’t you be attending to Cook?’ Madeleine said in confusion.

Adamson let her go with an exclamation. ‘Cook is even now busy preparing our dinner. Her headache was only a device invented by Higgins, who knows only how disliked the Pettigrews are about the county. He was trying to discourage the extra guests that you so kindly invited in...’

With an exclamation of disdain Adamson cast her aside and marched off towards the kitchen.

‘But I didn’t invite them in...’ Madeleine began, but let her voice trail away. It was hopeless. Adamson had thrown open the kitchen door and stormed inside. Madeleine followed him only because she was afraid to return to the drawing-room empty-handed.

Once in the kitchen Adamson showed not the slightest sign of his anger, so Madeleine confronted him with it.

‘I didn’t invite the Pettigrews in. I just said—’

‘Not in front of the staff, mademoiselle.’ He turned to her with a mild expression.

‘All the same, I only said—’

‘Mademoiselle!’

For an instant his eyes crackled cold fury before his voice if not his features regained some of their calm.

‘I shall have Cook pack up eggs and honey for our guests. You will wait in the hall until it is ready, mademoiselle.’

His stare was enough to make Madeleine head for the door. He might hate life at Willowbury, but that’s no excuse to take it out on me, she thought mutinously.

She was halfway along the hall when the front door knocker thudded. Thinking to save Higgins a job and squeeze herself back into favour, Madeleine hurried forward to open it.

Standing outside was the Reverend Mr Wright, and he had a companion. At his side was a girl of about fifteen, soberly dressed in a green linen gown and modest cap.

‘Ah, Madeleine!’ the parson began, and stepped forward as though to enter.

‘So sorry, sir—there’s nothing for dinner, and we’re quite full with Pettigrews already—’ Madeleine began helpfully, but before she could close the door on yet more unwanted guests Philip Adamson had dashed up from the kitchen and bundled her aside without ceremony.

‘Come in!’ He smiled at the visitors, throwing the front door open wide. As they passed him and went into the hall, Adamson shot another fearsome look at Madeleine.

‘Never shut the door to guests. Especially not our neighbours! Don’t you know anything?’

Madeleine watched his anger dissolve into marked delight as he greeted Mr Wright and his companion. She closed the door quietly and tried to merge in with the background. Today had been nothing but a disaster.

Even her judgement was letting her down now—at first Madeleine had thought the young girl with the Reverend Mr Wright looked retiring and demure. Now she seemed anything but as she stepped forward in response to Adamson’s outstretched hand.

Her eyes were alight, and not only with the low rays of evening sun.

It seemed that Madeleine had another rival, besides the dreaded Kitty.

‘How delightful that you should have accompanied your father, Miss Leonora. A friendly dinner at Willowbury might perhaps encourage you to attempt more socialising.’

‘Thank you, sir.’ Dimpling and dazzling, Leonora dropped Adamson a curtsy. She was as fair as Kitty, but on a larger scale. A generous mouth and large pale eyes gave her a winsome charm rather than Kitty’s flashy good looks.

Madeleine hated this Leonora on sight.

‘We’ve come to save the day!’ The Reverend Mr Wright gave Madeleine a knowing smile. ‘Surely even the Pettigrews will know better than to outstay their welcome, Philip?’ he murmured as their host led the way to the drawing-room.

Leonora turned her winning smile upon Madeleine. Although the French girl had been determined that Leonora’s charm would cut no ice with her, there was little she could do but return it.

‘Father was telling me all about you on the way here,’ she twinkled brightly. ‘Can you really whistle all the Brandenburg Concerti, mademoiselle? Would you teach me?’

‘Leonora! Really!’ the parson reproached his daughter, but both he and Adamson were laughing.

‘I’m surprised that Master Philip makes such a matter public knowledge, Miss Leonora.’ Madeleine crackled a look at Adamson, who was still laughing as he pushed open the drawing-room door. ‘He always scolds me roundly for enjoying music so.’

‘Talk between good friends doesn’t make a matter public, Mademoiselle Madeleine,’ Adamson countered affably.

They entered the room to a delighted greeting from Mr Pettigrew. Adamson strolled over to stand beside the empty fireplace then held out his hands to Leonora, who moved gracefully towards him. Slipping her arm around his waist, she settled herself comfortably at his side. Little Mrs Pettigrew tugged at her husband’s sleeve and whispered frantically.

‘Oh—er—seems like we might be making a bit of a fawks pass,’ Pettigrew puffed out his rosy cheeks and rocked on his heels. ‘This here looking to be a bit of a private party in the making, Enid reckons the ettikit is that we should make tracks. If we’re not invited...’

His sudden and unaccustomed awkwardness was just as quickly suffered by everyone else. With relief Madeleine saw Adamson’s expression immediately thaw towards the social outcasts, but his mother had seen it, too.

‘Such a shame that we’ve got nothing more than bread and cheese to offer tonight, and precious little of that!’ she gushed, taking Mrs Pettigrew’s arm. The little woman immediately took this as a sign that she was to be escorted from the premises, and went meekly. Mr Pettigrew backed out of the room with less dignity and more embarrassment.

‘Well...that’s it, then... Must be going... Nice to have seen you all...’

‘We’ll have to invite you to dinner properly.’ Philip Adamson was genuinely full of remorse, and not only at the thought of entertaining the Pettigrews on some future unhappy occasion.

The look Mr Pettigrew gave him showed that their embarrassment was mutual.

There was an uncomfortable silence in the drawing-room until Mistress Constance returned with the welcome news that the Pettigrews had completed their strategic withdrawal.

‘Thank goodness for that!’ She fanned herself with lavender-scented lace. ‘If you hadn’t arrived, dear Reverend, who knows how much more of that we would have had to endure?’

Madeleine watched Adamson as his mother convinced their visitors into staying for dinner. He looked to be engrossed in Leonora’s light and pretty conversation, but Madeleine sensed that the business with Pettigrew had given him pause for thought.

Beneath the benevolent gaze of her father and Mistress Constance, Leonora dazzled. ‘I’ve never eaten dinner away from home before!’ she said excitedly, looking up at Adamson.

Let’s hope you aren’t expecting to take lessons in manners from me, Madeleine thought, beginning to worry. Thank goodness the guests were only a country vicar and his daughter. Everyone in England seemed to look down on the clergy.

At once Mistress Constance reassured Madeleine that they would not be bothering to change for dinner, as it was to be a meal with old friends. Madeleine tried not to show her astonishment at the thought of changing out of perfectly clean clothes that had been fresh out of the wardrobe only a couple of hours before.