The Daughter of the Manor

‘Let’s not argue about him. I’ve come to spend the weekend with you, so let’s enjoy ourselves. Heaven knows, it’s hard enough to get away.’

Tony had sat down again. ‘How about getting into something pretty and we’ll go out to lunch?’

‘Tony, I’d love to, but I can’t. When you got here I was making beds—and when I’ve done that I must get lunch and see about making a cake and getting something made for this evening. Father has to have his coffee and his lunch, and Mother will be back presently. They like their tea at half past four and dinner has to be cooked…’

‘For heaven’s sake, Leonora…can’t Nanny deal with all that?’

‘No, she can’t. The kitchen has to be cleaned, food has to be prepared, she has to answer the door and Father’s bell if I’m busy and one of us will have to go to the village and do some extra shopping.’

‘Well, I thought I would be welcome,’ said Tony sulkily, ‘but it seems I’d better leave as quickly as possible!’

‘Don’t be silly,’ said Leonora briskly. ‘You know how glad I am to see you, but what’s the use of pretending that I can sit here, nicely dressed and made up, when it’s simply not possible? We could go for a walk in the afternoon.’

She saw his irritable frown. ‘I’m sorry, Tony…’

‘Let’s hope that next time I manage to get here you’ll be looking more like my fiancée and not the home help.’ He laughed as he spoke and she laughed with him, hiding her hurt. He was delightful and charming, she told herself, and she loved him, and she reminded herself that he worked very hard and had little time to enjoy his leisure.

All the same the beds had still to be made. It was fortunate that her mother returned, delighted at the sight of Tony, grumbling prettily at the awful coffee she had had to drink at Colonel Howes’. ‘Darling,’ she begged Leonora, ‘do make me a cup—you make such good coffee.’

She settled down in her chair and turned to Tony. ‘Now, tell me all the latest gossip…’

Her father wasn’t best pleased to learn that Tony had come for the weekend. He loved his daughter dearly, was aware that she was missing the kind of life a girl of her age should be enjoying but was not sure what to do about it. When Tony had swept her off her feet and he had seen the happiness in her face, he had been glad for her sake, although he had had to bury the vague dislike he had for him. If Leonora loved him and he would make her happy, then that was more important than his own feelings. Tony, after all, was a successful young man, able to give Leonora the comforts and small luxuries which he, her father, had been unable to afford.

He expressed a pleasure he didn’t feel and told her he would be down to lunch and she whisked herself away to finish the beds and tidy first the rooms and then herself. There wasn’t time to change into something more eye-catching than the sweater and skirt but at least she could do something to her face and hair.

Going downstairs a little later, she could hear her mother and Tony laughing and talking in the drawing room, which gave her the chance to go to the kitchen and see what Nanny had found for lunch.

Cheese omelettes, they decided, and there was a tin of mushroom and garlic soup which they could eke out with some chicken stock. Melba toast and a salad.

‘We’ll worry about dinner presently,’ promised Leonora. ‘I’ll do the table in a minute and after lunch I’ll go down to the village. It had better be a joint, I suppose—five of us—roast this evening, cold tomorrow.’

That would make a hole in the housekeeping, she reflected, going to sit in the drawing room and listen to Tony being amusing about his life in London.

A good-looking man, she reflected lovingly, and such fun to be with. She hoped that once they were married she would make him happy—live his kind of life, like his friends, enjoy the dinner parties and theatres and social occasions which he had assured her were so very important to his work.

Presently she slipped away to see to lunch and give Nanny a hand, half hoping that he would go with her. But he merely smiled and waved a hand.

‘Don’t be too long, darling; I miss you.’

Perhaps it was as well that he had stayed talking to her mother and father, she decided, beating eggs, making a salad, laying the table…

After lunch she told him that she was going to the village. He frowned for a moment then smiled. ‘A chance for us to talk,’ he told her. ‘Not paying visits, I hope.’

‘No, no, just some shopping. It’ll give you an appetite for tea.’

They met the vicar in the village street and she left them talking while she bought the meat. They were still talking when she joined them again.

Tony put an arm around her shoulders. ‘Do we know when we want to get married, darling?’ he asked. ‘It all depends, actually, but it won’t be long now. A June wedding, perhaps. That is, if the bride agrees to that.’

The vicar looked pleased. ‘We haven’t had a wedding for some time,’ he observed, ‘and June is a delightful month in which to be married.’

‘A nice old man,’ said Tony as they started back home. ‘Very keen to see us married, isn’t he?’

‘Did you mean that—June—you said…?’

He took her free hand in his. ‘Why not, darling? It will be a bit of a rush—but I suppose we could get the place tidied up by then.’

‘What place?’

He stopped and turned to look at her. ‘Leonora, surely you can see for yourself that that great house is too much for your father and mother? Suppose we move them out to something smaller? There’s a nice little property a couple of miles away on the road to Bath. I’ll have the house completely refurbished and it’ll be a marvellous headquarters for me—us. Weekends for clients and friends. We’ll have a flat in town, of course, but it’s an easy run. I might even give you a car of your own so that you can go to and fro whenever you want.’

Leonora stared at him. ‘You don’t mean any of that, do you? I mean, turning Mother and Father out of their home? It’s been in the family for almost two hundred years; Father would die; it’s—it’s his blood. Mother has all her friends here and she loves the house too—she came here when she married Father. It’s a joke, isn’t it?’

He put his arm round her shoulders. ‘Darling, it’s not a joke, it’s common sense—can’t you see that? Your father isn’t exactly in the best of health, is he? Supposing he were to die—what would your mother do? Try and run this place on her own? She hasn’t the faintest idea how to do it…’

‘You forget me.’ Leonora had twisted away from him. ‘It’s my home too and I won’t leave it. And Father’s almost well again—you heard what Dr Galbraith said—’

‘A country GP?’ Tony sounded derisive. ‘He’ll say whatever he thinks his patients want to hear.’

‘That isn’t true. What an abominable thing to say.’ She began to walk on and he caught up with her and took her arm.

‘Darling, I’m sorry if I’ve made you cross. All right, I won’t say another word about your parents leaving home, but you must know that your father is in financial difficulties, and what will happen if they foreclose the mortgage?’

That brought her up short. ‘Mortgage? I didn’t know…’

‘How do you suppose he’s been able to stay here for so long?’

‘How did you know?’

‘I make it my business to know these things. Besides, I am concerned for you, Leonora.’

‘Oh.’ She felt guilty then for suspecting him. Suspecting him of what? she wondered. ‘I’m sorry, Tony. Don’t let’s talk about it any more. Father will get things sorted out once he is feeling quite well. Do please believe me when I say that nothing on earth will make Father or Mother move from the house, and that goes for me too!’

He caught her arm again. ‘Darling, you’re going to marry me, remember?’ He laughed a gentle laugh which made her smile and then laugh with him.

They went on their way and just as they reached the open gates to the house Dr Galbraith drove past. He raised a hand in salute, wondering why the sight of Leonora apparently so happy in Tony’s company should disturb him.

Probably because I don’t like the fellow, he decided, and forgot about them.

The weekend went too quickly for Leonora. Of course, having Tony there made a lot of extra work; he had admitted soon after they’d met that he was quite useless around the house and since there was no need for him to do anything for himself at his flat—a service flat where he could get his meals and a cleaner came each day—he made no effort to help. Not that Leonora expected him to make his bed or wash up, but it would have been nice if he hadn’t given Nanny his shoes to clean and expected his trousers pressed—or even if he’d carried a tray out to the kitchen…

It would be better when they were married, reflected Leonora; she was sure that he would be only too willing to help out when necessary once he realised that help was needed.

He went back very early on Monday morning, which meant that Leonora got up and cooked his breakfast first. It also meant that he used up almost all the hot water from the boiler and woke everyone up.

‘I’ll be down again just as soon as I can spare the time,’ he told Leonora. ‘And when I come do be ready for me, darling, and we’ll have an evening out. Bath, perhaps? A decent meal and we could dance after.’

She agreed happily, ignoring the bit about the decent meal. Sunday lunch had been excellent, she had thought—roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, baked potatoes, vegetables from the garden and an apple tart for pudding. That was surely a decent meal? She kissed him goodbye and begged him to phone when he had time. ‘Or write.’