displeased should I find you letting me down...’
Chapter 4
It was at about this time that Ly dia received a letter from her a unt Bridger in Netley. Mrs Abdale handed it to her with a muttered complaint about the expense – ‘for why Mr Abdale should be expected to pay for your correspondence I really do not know’ – as Lydia was about to leave the dining room after breakfast. She took it to the library to read, as a place where she could reasonably expect to be left well alone, none of the Abdales being much inclined towards reading. From what she could make out it appeared that Susan had settled into life at the vicarage and seemed happy enough, but what with the idiosyncratic handwriting and spelling and the eager crossing of Aunt Bridger it was difficult to decipher many of the words at all. What she could make out was a warm invitation to Lydia herself to visit them whenever she could be spared.
Lydia had been surprised to learn that she was to be included in the Churchmans’ dinner party, particularly as her presence would make for an awkward seventh at the table. On the few occasions that Mrs Abdale had received visitors since her arrival it had been made quite clear to her that she should not expect to be introduced, or to join in the conversation in any way. Not that she minded. Mrs Abdale’s acquaintance were nothing to her and Lydia considered that she probably derived much more amusement from observing their affectations than they themselves did from taking part.
The Churchmans were awaited in the grey saloon, a large, south facing room with views over the park. It was exquisitely decorated in cool pink-grey marble and a warm gold and grey Axminster carpet (most obviously a new acquisition), with sparkling crystal chandeliers reflected for ever in gilded mirrors. The grey velvet curtains were drawn against the darkness outside. It all seemed very splendid to Lydia and despite her lack of a gown anything like as elegant as her cousin’s she was looking forward to the evening with some anticipation.
It was not too long before a bustle in the hallway announced that the guests had arrived. Mrs Abdale rose to greet them.
‘My dear Mrs Churchman,’ she could be heard saying as the party arrived at the door. ‘How delightful to have you amongst us again – and looking so well, if I may make so bold…and Mr Churchman … Edward – more than pleased to welcome you, too, though you are quite regular visitors to Abdale nowadays – it is not to see me, I know, but we need say no more about that…!’
Mrs Abdale gave her chief guest a knowing smile, which Mrs Churchman failed to notice. She leaned quite heavily on her son’s arm.
‘… and here is Julia, looking prettier every day, so Mr Abdale says – but there, one must indulge the fondness of a father – not but that I must agree with him, of course – and more like me when I was younger than ever you might imagine.’
Lydia decided that her imagination must be far more limited than she had previously realised, for she found herself totally incapable of seeing any likeness between the two of them at all. She privately considered that any similarity between Julia and her gentle mama would be somewhat unl ikely to endear her to Mr Churchman. But before she could savour the comparison any further she found Mrs Churchman approaching her and asking to be introduced.
Mrs Abdale acceded to the request with evident reluctance.
‘Oh, this is my sister Barrington’s girl, Mrs Churchman,’ she said, with what Lydia could only interpret as a sour look. ‘Lydia will be living amongst us at Abdale from now on. You may remember me telling you that my sister died a year or so ago. If Mr Abdale had not been so good as to offer Lydia a home I dread to imagine what would have become of her.’
‘Well, I can only say that I am very pleased to make Miss Barrington’s acquaintance. It is not every day that we are fortunate enough to find an addition
Chapter 4
It was at about this time that Ly dia received a letter from her a unt Bridger in Netley. Mrs Abdale handed it to her with a muttered complaint about the expense – ‘for why Mr Abdale should be expected to pay for your correspondence I really do not know’ – as Lydia was about to leave the dining room after breakfast. She took it to the library to read, as a place where she could reasonably expect to be left well alone, none of the Abdales being much inclined towards reading. From what she could make out it appeared that Susan had settled into life at the vicarage and seemed happy enough, but what with the idiosyncratic handwriting and spelling and the eager crossing of Aunt Bridger it was difficult to decipher many of the words at all. What she could make out was a warm invitation to Lydia herself to visit them whenever she could be spared.
Lydia had been surprised to learn that she was to be included in the Churchmans’ dinner party, particularly as her presence would make for an awkward seventh at the table. On the few occasions that Mrs Abdale had received visitors since her arrival it had been made quite clear to her that she should not expect to be introduced, or to join in the conversation in any way. Not that she minded. Mrs Abdale’s acquaintance were nothing to her and Lydia considered that she probably derived much more amusement from observing their affectations than they themselves did from taking part.
The Churchmans were awaited in the grey saloon, a large, south facing room with views over the park. It was exquisitely decorated in cool pink-grey marble and a warm gold and grey Axminster carpet (most obviously a new acquisition), with sparkling crystal chandeliers reflected for ever in gilded mirrors. The grey velvet curtains were drawn against the darkness outside. It all seemed very splendid to Lydia and despite her lack of a gown anything like as elegant as her cousin’s she was looking forward to the evening with some anticipation.
It was not too long before a bustle in the hallway announced that the guests had arrived. Mrs Abdale rose to greet them.
‘My dear Mrs Churchman,’ she could be heard saying as the party arrived at the door. ‘How delightful to have you amongst us again – and looking so well, if I may make so bold…and Mr Churchman … Edward – more than pleased to welcome you, too, though you are quite regular visitors to Abdale nowadays – it is not to see me, I know, but we need say no more about that…!’
Mrs Abdale gave her chief guest a knowing smile, which Mrs Churchman failed to notice. She leaned quite heavily on her son’s arm.
‘… and here is Julia, looking prettier every day, so Mr Abdale says – but there, one must indulge the fondness of a father – not but that I must agree with him, of course – and more like me when I was younger than ever you might imagine.’
Lydia decided that her imagination must be far more limited than she had previously realised, for she found herself totally incapable of seeing any likeness between the two of them at all. She privately considered that any similarity between Julia and her gentle mama would be somewhat unl ikely to endear her to Mr Churchman. But before she could savour the comparison any further she found Mrs Churchman approaching her and asking to be introduced.
Mrs Abdale acceded to the request with evident reluctance.
‘Oh, this is my sister Barrington’s girl, Mrs Churchman,’ she said, with what Lydia could only interpret as a sour look. ‘Lydia will be living amongst us at Abdale from now on. You may remember me telling you that my sister died a year or so ago. If Mr Abdale had not been so good as to offer Lydia a home I dread to imagine what would have become of her.’
‘Well, I can only say that I am very pleased to make Miss Barrington’s acquaintance. It is not every day that we are fortunate enough to find an addition
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