Elliot’s, is she?’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Constance. Some governess or lady’s maid that the lad has got into trouble? John’s not marrying her to do his rich friend a favour, is he?’
‘How dare you?’ The spots of colour in Frances’ cheeks intensified and burned an angry red. When she began to cough, Muriel sidled away.
From her seat at the table Constance had seen the vexed exchange and, not knowing what was the matter, she half rose to go and see if there was anything she could do for Mrs Edington. But the little maid was already hurrying over to her. John took Constance’s hand and pulled her down again.
‘Don’t worry, I could see before that my mother was getting overtired but I didn’t want to banish her from the wedding feast. Polly will see to her; she’s used to it. Our guests are waiting to begin the meal.’
Constance looked around. There were seats for ten people at the dining table. She had been placed between John and Uncle Walter, John on her right and his uncle on her left. Opposite to her Albert had settled himself between Rosemary and Hannah Beattie and she could see his cheery face towering over the wedding cake.
Round the corner, on John’s right, Esther stared moodily at her plate and did not even look up as her mother settled herself officiously on the seat beside her. At the other end of the table, and next to Walter Barton, Matthew sat and stared almost as moodily as Esther, although he did respond politely every time John’s uncle spoke to him.
On Matthew’s left sat Mr Green, stiff and awkward to find himself in such august company. Constance noticed that Hannah Beattie tried to engage him in conversation but the poor man replied with words of one syllable and looked longingly in the direction of his wife, who had donned a large white pinafore and was helping Polly serve the guests.
Constance looked beyond the table and noticed, for the first time, how low the fire burned in the grate. There was not enough heat to warm this high-ceilinged room. Polly had taken Constance’s cloak away when she had first arrived and she was still cold. How few pictures there are on the walls, she thought, and how few ornaments on the mantelpiece or the sideboard. It is somehow bleak - and yet still preferable to that vulgarly overfurnished dining room at Rye Hill.
The rooms at Lodore House had never been overfurnished. Her mother had created areas of space and light that enchanted all who came there. And yet not everyone had been pleased. She remembered something Robert had said: ‘Grandmother Meakin says that your mother just couldn’t wait to empty this house of anything that reminded you of my mother. She said it’s quite indecent the way that she gets Father to agree to anything!’
Why had she thought about her half-brother now? She had put him out of her mind for years until that moment last night.
‘Hev you invited Robert to yer wedding?’
The question had taken her by surprise. She had not realized that Nella knew about Robert. She had certainly never talked to her about him in all those years in the workhouse. She hadn’t even seen him since the day before she and her mother had had to leave Lodore House.
Captain and Mrs Meakin had come to take their grandson home with them to Berwick. They had made it quite plain that they wished to have no more to do with their late son-in-law’s second family. They would be happy if Robert never saw his stepmother or his half-sister again.
‘You haven’t touched your wine.’ John was smiling at her. He took the glass and put it in her hand.
‘I’m not used to wine. I’m not sure ...’
‘Drink just a little. There, do you like it?’
‘Mm, yes, I do.’
Constance looked down into her glass. The light from the gas chandelier above the table sparkled on the rim for a moment but the dark red liquid inside it remained dull and
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Constance. Some governess or lady’s maid that the lad has got into trouble? John’s not marrying her to do his rich friend a favour, is he?’
‘How dare you?’ The spots of colour in Frances’ cheeks intensified and burned an angry red. When she began to cough, Muriel sidled away.
From her seat at the table Constance had seen the vexed exchange and, not knowing what was the matter, she half rose to go and see if there was anything she could do for Mrs Edington. But the little maid was already hurrying over to her. John took Constance’s hand and pulled her down again.
‘Don’t worry, I could see before that my mother was getting overtired but I didn’t want to banish her from the wedding feast. Polly will see to her; she’s used to it. Our guests are waiting to begin the meal.’
Constance looked around. There were seats for ten people at the dining table. She had been placed between John and Uncle Walter, John on her right and his uncle on her left. Opposite to her Albert had settled himself between Rosemary and Hannah Beattie and she could see his cheery face towering over the wedding cake.
Round the corner, on John’s right, Esther stared moodily at her plate and did not even look up as her mother settled herself officiously on the seat beside her. At the other end of the table, and next to Walter Barton, Matthew sat and stared almost as moodily as Esther, although he did respond politely every time John’s uncle spoke to him.
On Matthew’s left sat Mr Green, stiff and awkward to find himself in such august company. Constance noticed that Hannah Beattie tried to engage him in conversation but the poor man replied with words of one syllable and looked longingly in the direction of his wife, who had donned a large white pinafore and was helping Polly serve the guests.
Constance looked beyond the table and noticed, for the first time, how low the fire burned in the grate. There was not enough heat to warm this high-ceilinged room. Polly had taken Constance’s cloak away when she had first arrived and she was still cold. How few pictures there are on the walls, she thought, and how few ornaments on the mantelpiece or the sideboard. It is somehow bleak - and yet still preferable to that vulgarly overfurnished dining room at Rye Hill.
The rooms at Lodore House had never been overfurnished. Her mother had created areas of space and light that enchanted all who came there. And yet not everyone had been pleased. She remembered something Robert had said: ‘Grandmother Meakin says that your mother just couldn’t wait to empty this house of anything that reminded you of my mother. She said it’s quite indecent the way that she gets Father to agree to anything!’
Why had she thought about her half-brother now? She had put him out of her mind for years until that moment last night.
‘Hev you invited Robert to yer wedding?’
The question had taken her by surprise. She had not realized that Nella knew about Robert. She had certainly never talked to her about him in all those years in the workhouse. She hadn’t even seen him since the day before she and her mother had had to leave Lodore House.
Captain and Mrs Meakin had come to take their grandson home with them to Berwick. They had made it quite plain that they wished to have no more to do with their late son-in-law’s second family. They would be happy if Robert never saw his stepmother or his half-sister again.
‘You haven’t touched your wine.’ John was smiling at her. He took the glass and put it in her hand.
‘I’m not used to wine. I’m not sure ...’
‘Drink just a little. There, do you like it?’
‘Mm, yes, I do.’
Constance looked down into her glass. The light from the gas chandelier above the table sparkled on the rim for a moment but the dark red liquid inside it remained dull and
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