When It Rained at Hembry Castle Chapter 19

The Presentation, or A Grandmother's Dream

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ives in Hembry Village, as in Hembry Castle, continued as they had for centuries. Whether the Earl of Staton was at his country seat or not, the farmers, the villagers, the merchants, the artisans, the postmaster, and the vicar had their concerns and someone had to see to them. Whether it was his lordship, a family member, or the stable boy getting things done, the people of Hembry didn’t care. Increasingly, they were directed to Mr. Frederick, second son of their beloved 8th Earl, and in time they came to trust the man known as the wayward who had his father’s aquamarine eyes, benevolent smile, and genial manner. The Honorable Frederick Meriwether insisted he was happy to assist however he could. Please do tell him of any matters that need tending and he would make certain all was handled to everyone’s satisfaction.

The widow Mrs. Clements’ cottage flooded? Whatever of her belongings could be salvaged were, whatever was destroyed was replaced, and she and her children were relocated to a dry, clean home bigger than their previous dwelling though the rent remained the same. She was even given three months free rent while she recovered herself and her young children. Mr. Kimball cannot pay his rent on time? We will not turn you and your sickly mother out into the winter cold, Mr. Frederick said. Mr. Spreang is ill and cannot farm his land? Robust boys from the castle will help, and Mr. Frederick brought round Mr. Hough, the family’s physician, to tend the sickly man. Both Mr. Frederick and his lovely daughter visited many times over several weeks to help Mr. Spreang, the lovely daughter bathing the ill man’s forehead with cool water and feeding him soup made by the castle’s own cook. Other times Miss Meriwether cared for Mr. Spreang’s children so Mrs. Spreang could sit undisturbed with her husband for a time. Mrs. Pearson’s son Joseph was sickly again? Mr. and Miss Meriwether brought their doctor there as well. Mr. Hough continued to care for the boy, and Miss Meriwether visited with special treats for mother and son.

By the time church bells tolled in the Epiphany in January, instead of asking for his lordship, the people of Hembry wanted Mr. Frederick. When women or children were involved, Miss Meriwether’s gentle touch was requested. It was as if they had forgotten that there was an Earl, perhaps because the Earl himself seemed to have forgotten. When his lordship was at Hembry he sat in on meetings about village business with Mr. Frederick, his lordship looking very bored, very ill, very distracted, or some combination of all. Lord Staton nodded when appropriate, looked serious when required, laughed when the mood needed lightening, but always he was happy to allow Mr. Frederick to handle the situation. The rumor around the village, told and told again at the post office, was that during these meetings Lord Staton turned to his brother and said, “See, Freddie. Everyone knew you were better suited to this than me.”

Suddenly,

it was spring, and a bursting kaleidoscope of color bloomed everywhere around the castle. Green replaced gray, flowers flourished, and Daphne’s presentation to the Queen was at hand. Between dress fittings, etiquette lessons, practicing walking backwards without tripping, and rehearsing her curtsey so she could kneel to the floor without falling (there was no way to fall gracefully, Daphne discovered), there was little time for the American girl to think her own thoughts. There were other oddities as well, such as the time Lady Staton suggested Daphne practice speaking with the family’s elongated aristocratic tones. Since Frederick had only rude words in response, the idea was dropped. Daphne was exhausted by her grandmother’s constant demands, and as the weather grew warmer she began to steal moments to sneak to the parkland to sit under the trees and watch the grass grow.

There were reprieves. Whenever Frederick traveled to London on Daily Observer business he took Daphne along to give her a break from her grandmother, for which Daphne was grateful. Despite the worry brought on by her upcoming presentation, her days brightened whenever Edward visited, though his visits grew fewer while he dealt with demands of his own. The due date for his story collection loomed closer and he was increasingly fretful about getting everything finished on time, about whether or not the stories were any good, and any other number of concerns that kept him bottled up inside his London flat with sweat on his hands and ink in his hair. Some days Daphne received a letter from Edward dated at 3 o’clock in the morning. His letters were so long that once Daphne wrote back telling him to stop writing to her, to take that time to work on his stories, to which she’d receive a reply saying that his letters to her were keeping him sane—after all, his stories stopped making sense to him weeks ago. To make his point, Edward began sending the stories to Hembry Castle or Staton House, wherever Daphne happened to be. Daphne and Frederick read the tales aloud to each other and they nodded, saying, “Yes, this young man may very well be the next Mr. Dickens.” Where Mr. Dickens had focused on oddities and caricatures of London life, especially that of the poor, Edward wrote stories where Education was the star, Education the hero that could raise the low and rescue the downtrodden and give everyone the opportunity they deserved so they could live the very best life they could create for themselves. Edward Ellis was a kind, sensitive, thoughtful man unlike any Daphne had ever known.

So there it was. Daphne had fallen for Edward. Their day together at Christmas had only cemented her attachment. The young man with the wide hazel eyes and the hair that refused to stay out of his face, the easy laugh and the friendly smile, he was the one for her. She had no doubt of it now. But he still hadn’t made a declaration about his feelings for her, and she still wondered about his intentions. When they were together, Edward was all attentiveness and exuberance. His letters to her were always confidences about how he felt not quite up to the task set before him by Fergusonandwately, how he feared he might let her father down by neglecting his duties at the Observer, how her friendship meant everything to him, and how she kept him going during those long, long hours when he stared into the creative abyss. Those weren’t simply the words of a young man in want of companionship. He wouldn’t share himself that way with just anyone (he was English, after all). Yet Daphne wondered what it would take for him to finally declare himself.

Back at Hembry, Daphne sat alone in her bedroom in the wing chair by the hearth. Though the weather was warmer, it was still cold in that big house and she was always seeking out the comfort of the fire. Her bedroom was a beautiful space painted pearl-pink, and it was the one place in all the castle where she felt free from prying eyes. Known as the Rose Tree Room, the wall behind the bed featured a mural of a sepia-brown tree whose branches spread gracefully toward the ceiling. On the green sprouts from the branches bloomed white leaves and mauve roses intertwined with blue and yellow birds. At the end of the tree, directly above the bed, was a golden birdcage with one little blue bird peering from behind the bars. That’s how I feel at Hembry, Daphne thought. Like a bird in a gilded cage where I can see everything beautiful around me but I can’t reach it because I’m trapped. She ran her hand over the flower-embroidered silk bedcovers that were the same shade of pearl-pink as her walls and she marveled at how every detail in this room, as in the whole castle, was arranged to perfection, from the color of the walls, to the matching bed set, to the green polished dressing table with rose trellises painted down the sides, to the chandelier with the white and pink baubles that reflected the light. Someone knocked at Daphne’s door and Pamela Escott appeared, her ringlets of ginger hair falling out from under her white cap. Daphne grimaced at the gown in Pamela’s hands.

“Another fitting?”

“Is now not a good time, Miss Daphne?”

“Now is as good a time as any. It’s not like I have anything else to do.”

Daphne walked behind the screen near her dressing table, removed her deep green day dress, and put on the gown she would wear for her presentation. She had tried the gown on so many times she felt like one day they would sew it up so tightly she might never escape the gown again. They’ll have to bury me in this, Daphne thought. She walked around the screen and stepped onto the footstool. “No Rowland today?”

“Her ladyship wanted me to handle the final fittings. Miss Rowland will supervise my work, of course, but her ladyship wants me to do it. This way I’ll be ready when it’s time for you to have a proper lady’s maid.”

“When will that be?”

“When you’re married.”

Daphne laughed. “I think my grandmother has great expectations for the result of my presentation.”

“I think she expects you to be engaged by the end of the Season.”

“The end of the Season! That doesn’t give me much time.”

“Do you have someone in mind?” Daphne felt her cheeks blush hot. Pamela took a pin from the case on the dressing table and pinned the white satin hem. “Anyone you’d care to mention?”

“My grandmother would not approve, I can say that.”

Pamela stood back and studied her handiwork. “I think this may be it, Miss Daphne. I’ll fix the hemline, and then Miss Rowland will inspect. If everything is to her satisfaction, then I think we can say your gown is finished.”

Daphne studied the white gown with the long train embroidered with blush-colored roses. “It’s beautiful, Pamela.” Daphne stared into the mirror, examining her reflection, hardly recognizing herself in this grand gown in this grand room in this grand house.

“Is there anything else, Miss Daphne?”

“I was just thinking how perfect everything is at Hembry. The house, the furnishings, the meals, this gown. I’m not a perfect person. I don’t belong here.”

“None of us are perfect, Miss Daphne, and rarely is anything what it seems.”

Daphne closed her eyes. She was so tired suddenly. The sky had darkened to slate gray as a springtime storm closed in, which only added to her feeling that she wanted to sleep. Was there ever a time it didn’t rain at Hembry Castle?

“Of course you’re right, Pamela. It’s this presentation. It worries me.”

“Are you worried about your gown?”

“My gown is the one thing I know will be perfect. It’s everything else: the protocol, remembering to curtsey three times, dipping to the floor without sprawling over, remembering what to say and what not to say, walking backward without knocking into anything. It’s knowing that my Uncle Richard has left again and no one knows where he is. Life doesn’t make much sense these days, I’m afraid. The presentation itself is a sham because it doesn’t mean to me what it means to my grandmother and I’m just going through the motions. Contrary to my grandmother’s wishes, I won’t be marrying an heir or a spare. I love Edward.”

Daphne’s palms grew wet and she closed her fists instead of wiping the sweat on her gown. She had said it aloud: I love Edward. She would say it to no one but Pamela, though the maid didn’t look surprised. She peered at Daphne’s reflection in the mirror.

“May I speak freely, Miss Daphne?”

“Always.”

“It’s all right to go through with the presentation for the sake of her ladyship. It would be a nice gift to her if you went through with it. It’s all she’s talked about since you arrived. She might have certain plans for you afterward, but you and I both know that when the time comes to marry you’ll choose your own husband.”

“If he’ll have me.”

“Believe me, Miss Daphne, I’ve seen the look on young Mr. Ellis’ face whenever your name comes up. I’ve seen the way he stares at you when you’re near him.”

“Then why hasn’t he said anything?”

“He has to…” Pamela shook her head. “Maybe he’s shy.”

“He isn’t very shy when we’re talking about everything else in the world.”

“It’s one thing to discuss books and the stories he’s writing, but it’s different to share the depths of your heart, especially with the person at the center. And don’t forget, you’re the niece of the Earl of Staton. You could marry the most eligible titled men in England.”

“But what is the point of a title? What is the point of a social position? Is that all there is to life, making yourself acceptable to people you hardly know, jockeying for position, showing off the finest jewelry, carriages, clothing, homes to people who only care about showing off back to you? All I need is the people I love around me, my family and friends. I need a simple, comfortable home, and I need some kind of purpose. I can’t sit around like a dressmaking mannequin all day.” Daphne sighed. “I’m sorry, Pamela. These things have been weighing on me since I came here. And now with the presentation so near…”

“I understand, Miss Daphne. But I think you should look at the presentation for what it is, a gift to her ladyship. It might seem small, even silly to you, but this is her ladyship’s way. This is how she came of age to marry, and then she met her husband, your grandfather. It’s a sacrifice on your part, I know, but it would make her ladyship so happy.”

Daphne faced the housemaid. “How are you so wise, Pamela? We’re the same age yet I always learn so much from you. I’m afraid I have nothing to offer in return.”

“I wouldn’t say that, Miss Daphne. I’ve seen a lot in life, as I’m sure you have, and I’ve learned so much from you as well. It makes me think I might like America.”

“I think you would love America. America…” Daphne shook her head. “Maybe that’s where my Uncle Richard has gone.”

“His lordship is in London.”

Daphne grasped the maid’s hands. “How do you know?”

“He’s tending to…” Pamela broke off, her eyes wide.

“Tending to what? If you know anything about my uncle, where he goes, what he does, anything, I beg you to tell me.”

Pamela opened her mouth to speak, but the heavy knock stopped her. The two young women stayed frozen as the door creaked open. First the spectacles, then the rest of Mr. Ellis peered into the room.

“Excuse me, Miss Daphne, but her ladyship requests your presence in the sitting room. She wants to go over the details of the banquet for your ball with you and Mrs. Graham.”

“Of course, Ellis.”

Daphne released Pamela’s hand and followed Ellis away. She looked back at the young housemaid as she left, hoping to absorb some of what Pamela knew about her uncle through the air between them.

Lady Staton pulled

strings with royal contacts dangling at the end and she managed to get Daphne on the list for the Queen’s first Drawing Room of the Season. They arrived at Staton House the day before the presentation, and they had been so busy preparing for the trip to London and settling last minute details about the ball that Daphne hadn’t been able to question Pamela further.

The morning of the presentation Daphne was woken at dawn and given a hearty breakfast since she wouldn’t eat again until they arrived back at Staton House (Her Majesty didn’t wish to feed the debutantes since that might encourage them to outstay their welcome). After breakfast, back in her birdcage bedroom, Pamela helped Daphne dress. First was the chemise, then the bloomers, then the corset, then the cage bustle, then the petticoat, and finally the iridescent white satin gown with the requisite 12-foot-long train embroidered with blush-colored roses. The gown shimmered like sunshine on icicles when it caught the light. After the gown was adjusted to perfection Miss Rowland swept Daphne’s gold hair into an updo with curled tendrils framing her face. Lady Staton joined them while Miss Rowland set the white tulle veil into place.

“That was my veil from when I was presented myself, Daphne, many years ago. This fan was mine as well. I’ve saved them for you all these years. I didn’t have any daughters so I wanted my only granddaughter to be presented in them.”

“I love them, Grandma. I wear them proudly.”

The Countess clasped Daphne’s hands. Maybe Pamela was right, and all the hassles leading to this day were worth it if her grandmother was this happy. The Countess pulled Rowland for herself so she could get ready, leaving Pamela to help Daphne into her white satin shoes and elbow-length white satin gloves. For the finishing touches Daphne wore a headband with white feathers and carried a bouquet of white roses with pink peonies. When everyone was allowed to see the result, her grandmother fussed over her train, her father beamed, her Uncle Jerrold nodded, and her Aunt Hyacinth squinted through her monocle. Someone was missing, and Daphne looked toward the door.

“Where’s Uncle Richard, Papa?”

Her father shrugged. Before Daphne could ask more questions, she was loaded into the stately gray carriage. As soon as everyone was settled—her ladyship, Daphne, Frederick, Jerrold, and Hyacinth—the carriage lurched forward and the family was driven down the Mall toward Buckingham Palace. While they waited for the gates to open at 2 p.m. precisely, Daphne saw other carriages carrying young women tittering with excitement. The coachman showed Daphne’s invitation to the guards at the gate, and they were allowed across the forecourt where they passed Blore’s archway. Daphne had seen the palace many times before, located as it was along Constitution Hill and adjacent to St. James’ Park. When Daphne saw Buckingham Palace for the first time she made her father laugh by saying it wasn’t so very impressive. It reminded her of Hembry Castle in the simplicity of its façade with its neo-classical influence. Daphne had been much more impressed with Hampton Court Palace and Kew Gardens with their Tudor stylings. In the distance she could hear the bands of the Second Battalion of Her Majesty’s Life Guards playing lively tunes to keep up the spirits of the young ladies, some of whom had been waiting for hours. Finally, Daphne and her family were escorted into the palace.

“What’s wrong, my darling girl?” Frederick asked.

“I have a terrible feeling I don’t belong here.”

“Why on earth not?”

“Those girls look like children to me. I know I’m only two years older than they are but I feel Grandma’s age compared to them. And I look silly in this dress with this ridiculous train and these giant feathers. I feel like a chicken. Those girls, it’s like I can see their dreams for their futures in their smiles and I don’t feel that.”

“This is indeed an important day for them. They’ve looked forward to this since they were children. Your doing this for your grandmother is so very generous of you. Don’t forget, while you’re standing there with all those young women, that your life began the day you were born. You don’t need a nod from Her Majesty to know you’re special. You’re special because of the extraordinary young woman you’ve become.”

Daphne kissed her father’s cheek. “That’s a very American thing to say.”

“Some of it must have rubbed off after all those years.”

Daphne scanned the sea of unfamiliar faces. “Still no Uncle Richard?”

“I’m afraid he isn’t here.”

Daphne considered how to tell her father what she knew. “Before we left Hembry Pamela told me she knew where Uncle Richard had gone.”

“What did she say?”

“She said he had gone to London on business, but then we were interrupted and I’ve been so busy I haven’t had a chance to ask her again. He wasn’t at Staton House when we arrived, so who knows where he is now.”

Her father’s aquamarine eyes scanned the faces around him as though he were searching for Richard. “Well well. Pamela knew where your Uncle Richard was and I didn’t. Another mystery. We’ll have to ask Pamela how she knew.”

“I had the impression she didn’t want to reveal any more, and maybe she didn’t intend to say even that much.”

“But if she knows something she must be made to see that we need to know as well.”

Jerrold wrung his hands as though he were twisting a great worry away. He looked back at his wife, elegant in her long-limbed way in her pale lavender dress, her bustle making her backside unusually wide for such a slender woman. Her attention was directed elsewhere as she guided her monocle over the giddy young women, looking for imperfections, Daphne guessed.

“What were you saying?” Jerrold asked. “Were you talking about Richard? And who else? That housemaid? What did she say? I warned Richard not to hire her at Hembry. I knew she’d be trouble.”

“Pamela is no trouble,” Frederick said. “We were simply wondering where Richard is.”

Jerrold wrung his hands again. “Richard.” He coughed up the name as though putting a curse on his eldest brother. “As if Richard cares about anyone but himself. I’ve never seen anyone with less regard for his family.” When Hyacinth waved her fan and called a high-pitched “Jerrold!” he rushed to her side.

Daphne was startled when a young woman with ceiling-high plumes walked past. It must be quite a balancing act to keep those feathers upright, she thought. Daphne marveled at how the young women greeted each other like old friends, admiring each other’s gowns, laughing at the obstacles of getting ready for the day, tittering about the balls and operas to come. She knew Edward would make her feel better by pointing out the absurdities surrounding them, of which there were many.

“What are you thinking, my dear?” Frederick asked.

“I wish Edward were here.”

“He’ll be at your ball.”

Lady Staton pulled herself away from a heavily bejeweled acquaintance to help Daphne fold the unwieldy train over her arm (it must be the left arm) and arranged the white plumes sprouting from her headband (they must be large since Her Majesty did not care for little feathers). Daphne shivered from the cold since the staterooms in the palace were even more chilly than the rooms in Hembry Castle. When she wasn’t shivering she felt suffocated by the crush of courtiers, royalty, nobility, pages, military officers, butlers, gentlemen ushers, and yeomen of the guard. Finally, it was 3 o’clock. Daphne waved good-bye to her father as she and a group of other young ladies were ushered up the crimson-carpeted Grand Staircase into the presence chamber. Lady Staton looked like the black sheep of the Drawing Room since her mourning wear contrasted strongly against the light colored dresses of the others. While they waited, Lady Staton chatted with other escorts. Lady Staton in conversation was all kindness and ease, though as soon as she turned her back she’d shake her head.

“Lady Laughsom’s bosom will explode when she curtsies before the Queen if she’s not careful. And Lady Crestonham’s manner reminds me of a spoiled child who needs a reprimand from Nanny.” She puffed Daphne’s feathers and flattened her train. “You, my dear, are perfection, as I always knew you would be.”

Daphne’s name was announced with her grandmother’s. After a discreet “Ahem!” from Lady Staton, Daphne dropped her train as she passed the threshold of the Throne Room and waited while the train was spread out by the wands of the lords-in-waiting. Hearing her grandmother’s sergeant-like directions in her head (Bow three times, Daphne…), she remembered to curtsey upon entering Her Majesty’s presence, again midway down the room, and the grand finale, kneeling all the way down with her head toward the floor. When Daphne floated down and up again with all the grace she spent months rehearsing, she heard her grandmother’s sigh of relief. Daphne exhaled too, grateful the hardest part of her day was over. As Daphne backed demurely out of the room, careful not to trip over her train, she was struck by the hard stare of the well-fed woman on the throne, in mourning like her grandmother though her husband had been dead nearly ten years. The Queen wore her crown two sizes too small for her head, which was fine, Daphne thought, since her head was two sizes too small for the rest of her. I wish Edward could see her, Daphne thought. He’d have something to say about the Queen’s stately dourness and make me laugh. Edward had said presentations were much ado about nothing, and now she knew he was right.

The deed done, Daphne breathed easily for the first time since Christmas. After she arrived safely in the Picture Gallery, Lord Darges, the future Duke of Norley, made a point of stopping to say hello. His sister, Lady Gertrude, had also been presented that afternoon.

“You will be at Daphne’s ball, Lord Darges?” Lady Staton asked.

Lord Darges kissed Daphne’s hand as he bowed. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Lady Staton slipped away, leaving Daphne to make small talk with the future Duke of Norley. She nodded as he spoke of the tediousness of the House of Lords and smiled as he praised his sister’s grace as she was presented before Her Majesty. Daphne felt her grandmother’s stare drill through her. Lord Darges continued to talk, something about a hunting expedition at Worthley Manor, and Daphne was thankful when her father announced that it was time for the family to return to Staton House.

“What is it, Daphne?” Frederick asked.

“I was wondering what Grandma will say when I tell her I’m not interested in Lord Darges.”

“Your grandmother had today to her heart’s content. Now she’s going to have to come to terms with the fact that you’ll choose your own husband.”

“Let’s hope it’s that simple.” Daphne put her arm through her father’s. “Uncle Richard never arrived?”

“I’m so very sorry, my darling.”

Jerrold shook his head. “Richard is off doing whatever he wants however he wants as always.”

Frederick looked at his younger brother as though he hardly recognized him. “Thank you, Jerrold, for always being such a bright light. Your concern for our eldest brother is touching.”

Hyacinth’s monocle was pointed in Jerrold’s direction and Jerrold joined his wife near the door. Daphne leaned close to her father.

“What did Uncle Jerrold mean before when he said Pamela was a problem? I’ve never known anyone who was less of a problem than Pamela.”

“I’m not sure. But we must find out what she knows, Daphne.”

Daphne allowed her father to help her into the family’s carriage, and she wanted to cry with relief now that the presentation was over.