Julia and the Master of Morancourt Page 11

  “Have you told Mrs. Jones about the recipe for Derbyshire pudding, Aunt Lucy?” asked Julia innocently.

  Aunt Lucy looked puzzled, and then realised that her niece was hoaxing her. “Julia, you wicked minx! Mr. Hatton, what she means is that she and her sisters love any dessert that is sweet, and especially anything containing lemons.”

  “Lemons?” he said. “I had some desserts in Spain, when we had time to dine in the towns, that were very enjoyable. But I am afraid that I did not ask the ingredients, though I could guess if you wish.”

  Thus ensued an entertaining half hour during which Mr. Hatton described the desserts that he remembered, their appearance and taste, and Mrs. Jones and Aunt Lucy made notes, with the intention of experimenting with the recipes once Julia’s aunt was more recovered.

  “Can we get lemons in Dorset?” said Julia innocently, “I thought perhaps that in these wild country parts—”

  Mr. Hatton laughed out loud, for he knew that she was teasing him.

  “For that, Miss Maitland, I should drag you to either Beaminster or Bridport, and show you how well provisioned are many of the shops in the towns in this locality. There are several very wealthy farmers, as well as some great estates, within a short drive of here, you know. You will find that the local grocers and provisions shop, Messrs. Pines in Beaminster, has a range of goods to rival that in the London premises of Messrs. Fortnum and Mason in Piccadilly.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Julia very demurely.

  There was a message waiting for Mr. Hatton when they got back to the house. He had mentioned previously to Aunt Lucy that an old school friend of his lived nearby and owned a large estate. The suggestion was that Mr. Hatton should go with his friend to an assembly and dance at the Rooms in Beaminster in a few days time, and that Julia would be welcome to accompany him if she wished.

  “Mrs. Harrison, my friend James Lindsay tells me in this letter that he will have a party of about twelve young people going to Beaminster on Saturday night. May I reply that we will go? His mother will be attending to chaperone the young ladies, so I am sure that she would look after Miss Maitland as well, if that is acceptable to you?”

  “As you have known the family for a long time, Mr. Hatton, of course I will agree.”

  “I could send the reply by my groom, but alternatively I could take Miss Maitland with me in the carriage tomorrow morning to deliver the letter in person, so that she has the opportunity to meet some of the family before Saturday evening. May we do that?”

  After looking at Julia to be sure that she liked the idea, Aunt Lucy readily agreed.

  Dinner that evening included some dishes made from recipes that had been given to Mrs. Jones by Aunt Lucy, and they were pronounced a great success. After the rather elaborate meals that they had had on some occasions in Bath, Julia found the new recipes a refreshing change. Mrs. Jones was delighted at the praise that she received and promised Mr. Hatton that she and the cook would redouble their efforts to widen their culinary repertoire.

  “How is your ankle now, Aunt Lucy? Is it feeling better at all?” said Julia. She had noticed that her aunt had ventured once or twice to take a few short steps around the chaise longue, to ease her stiffness after sitting for so long.

  “I believe that it is a little more comfortable, thank you, my dear,” said her aunt, “but I will not venture very far without Mrs. Jones or Martha beside me until the doctor returns, for I do not wish to compromise my recovery. I do promise you that I will not risk anything tomorrow morning, whilst you are visiting Mr. Lindsay at his house.”

  “I beg your pardon, Mrs. Harrison,” said Mr. Hatton, “I should have made it clear that it is Sir James Lindsay, for his late father was a baronet.”

  Her aunt’s pleasure at hearing of this title reminded Julia forcibly of her mother, except for the difference that her aunt did not press the importance of the title upon her niece. But Julia noticed Mr. Hatton observing her reaction with a rather amused expression and diagnosed (correctly) that he was thinking of her description of her Mama.

  After they had left Aunt Lucy to Martha’s ministrations before bed, Mr. Hatton escorted her to the foot of the stairs and said, “Miss Maitland, I do apologise. I should not have made that comparison between your aunt and your mother, even though I said nothing explicit to you.”

  “Mr. Hatton, I am getting quite worried.”

  He immediately looked rather concerned but, before he could say more, Julia continued, “that we are getting to be too good at reading each other’s minds!”

  He visibly relaxed and acknowledged her joke with a smile. He then took himself in hand and bowed formally to her before she turned to go up the stairs to bed.

  The following morning, Mr. Hatton told Aunt Lucy, “We will take the carriage, Mrs. Harrison, as some of the lanes on the way to my friend’s house are rather uneven and not suitable for the curricle. We should be back with you by mid-afternoon at the latest.”

  The weather had become a little more overcast, but Mr. Hatton asked the coachman to put the hood of the carriage down so that Julia could see better.

  “I have asked him to take us on the road via Bridport, so that you may see the Rope Walks there.”

  “What are Rope Walks?” asked Julia, “I have never heard the term.”

  “You will see when we reach Bridport. Ropes have been made in this part of Dorset for many hundreds of years, mainly for the Navy. In times of war, the trade has been very important in the history of the nation. The crops that are needed for making rope, flax, and hemp, are grown in the fields all over this area of South Dorset. If you look to both sides of the road, you will see them.”

  Julia gave the fields more detailed attention after this remark, and saw some of the flax growing strongly on the slopes of the valley.

  “Flax and hemp can be very significant in the income of an estate,” Mr. Hatton said as they neared Bridport. “My friend Sir James, and his family before him, have been active in the trade, especially since the Bounties Act provided subsidies for growing the crops. That was because of the interruptions to the other supplies from America and the Continent by the war.”

  “Are those crops grown at Morancourt?”

  “Not at present, as far as I am aware. My friend will be able to advise me. I don’t yet know whether any of the land is suitable.”

  When they arrived in Bridport, they left the carriage on a side road, and Mr. Hatton took Julia to see the rope walks in some of the lanes leading off the wide streets, where the rope makers were hard at work. Long lengths of flax, already twisted into strands, were being combined with others, all tied to posts before the workers twisted them at one end to form the long thick ropes, wider than a man’s wrist.

  “King John commanded the towns people about five hundred years ago, at the time of another war with France, to ‘make ropes by night and day.’ Many nets are made around here as well, for the fishermen and the Navy ships. So you will understand that much of the prosperity of the town is founded on those trades—that, and some smuggling, according to my friend James. And no, I did not read any of that in the Bridport News, which as you may guess is the local newspaper, Miss Maitland!”

  Julia laughed, remembering their conversation on the canal boat. “Perhaps your godmother, Mrs. Hatton, might have told you when you were young?”

  “Indeed.” And he smiled at her in the way that so touched her heart.

  “It certainly looks to be a prosperous town,” said Julia, admiring the fine buildings on each side of the main street as they returned to the carriage and took their seats, and Mr. Hatton told the coachman to continue their journey.

  When they reached the Lindsays’ estate, they could see the large stone house set on the slope of the hill ahead, built in the style fashionable in the late 1780s, and set back behind a large lake. When the carriage reached the portico, Mr. Hatton handed Julia out onto the gravel and invited her to look at the view before they entered the house. There was a most attractive
panorama over the green parkland and the lake and beyond across the Marshwood Vale. In the distance they could see the deep blue of the sea on the coast.

  The handsome oak doors to the house were opened by a smartly dressed footman, who seemed to be expecting them. As the butler led them through the hall, they could hear voices in the drawing room beyond.

  “Kit, how good it is to see you again! And this must be Miss Maitland? You are very welcome.”

  Without doubt, this must be James Lindsay, thought Julia. He was a pleasant young man with a shock of red hair, and about the same height as Mr. Hatton, dressed in a subdued style appropriate for a country location. Sitting beyond him were two older ladies, and their host turned to them to make the introductions.

  “Kit, you know my mother, of course. Miss Maitland, this is my mother, Lady Lindsay, and her sister, Mrs. Jepson.”

  Lady Lindsay was a fine-looking woman in an elegant gown and with her neatly dressed greying hair still tinged with the red that her son had inherited. Mrs. Jepson, by contrast, had faded brown curls, which were arranged in a rather untidy style, and to Julia’s eyes she was wearing a rather fussy and old-fashioned dress.

  “Kit, congratulations on your new inheritance! I was so delighted to hear the news from James. I know of the estate, although I have never been there.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. It is all very new to me at present, but I look forward to welcoming you to Morancourt. I am hoping that James can advise me on various matters relating to the use of the land, once I have had time to discover what needs to be done.”

  Lady Lindsay turned to Julia.

  “I should be delighted to be your chaperone in Beaminster on Saturday evening, Miss Maitland. I dare say that you will not need much protection amongst the pleasant group of young people who will be attending the occasion, but I shall be very pleased to be of assistance. My sister is staying with me for a few days, before returning to her home near Yeovil, and so will be accompanying us.”

  Mrs. Jepson said very little, but seemed to be a pleasant woman, although of no great intellect. After a few more minutes of conversation, Lady Lindsay suggested that her son might show Miss Maitland parts of the house, and so Julia went with Mr. Hatton and his friend back into the hall.

  “I understand, Sir James, that you went to school with Mr. Hatton. I would dearly love to know what kind of a schoolboy he was!”

  “Very determined, Miss Maitland, and very good at his books, too, unlike me.”

  “You are too hard on yourself, my friend,” said Mr. Hatton, “for you gained a place at Oxford at the same time as I did.”

  Julia looked surprised, but, before she could put the question, Mr. Hatton answered her. “I decided not to go to Oxford, Miss Maitland, much to my mother’s regret, but to take up a commission in the regiment instead. I saw little future for myself as a clergyman, and the benefit of a degree in any other profession that I might pursue seemed very limited.”

  “Does your aunt have any children, Sir James? Jepson is an unusual name, and I met a young man of that surname in Bath a little while ago.”

  “Yes, Miss Maitland, I have three cousins. Patrick is the youngest; his two elder sisters are both married and living some distance away now.”

  On the way back to Morancourt, Mr. Hatton said, “Why did you ask whether my aunt had any children?”

  Julia thought quickly. “As I said, Jepson seems rather an unusual name.”

  Mr. Hatton gave her a long look, and Julia realised that he was well aware that she had not told him the whole story, but he didn’t question her anymore.

  Eight

  The rest of that day was rather wet, and Julia spent most of the evening with her aunt. They jointly composed a letter to Emily Brandon, for she was due to return to Cressborough Castle within the next few days. From that activity, her aunt moved on to ask about more details of the Brandon family, but fortunately Mr. Hatton had left them by that time to attend to some business in his study, so that Julia did not have to take too much care in what she said.

  The next day was Friday, and Mr. Hatton proposed that he and Julia should take the carriage to Eggardon Hill, an earthwork some distance to the east of Morancourt that was thought to be very old, and from which he said fine views could be obtained.

  The journey did not take too long. Mr. Hatton explained that the farm there below Eggardon Hill was reputed to have been bought at the end of the previous century by one of the most successful smugglers in Dorset, Isaac Gulliver. A group of trees was said to have been planted on the hilltop to act as a beacon for ships coming along the Channel to bring contraband goods ashore.

  “That was what Mr. Henry Hatton told me when I was young, but I don’t know whether it’s true. The Gulliver family may still own the farm, and I thought that it might be useful to have a look, although we can pretend that we have just come to observe the scenery.”

  This, thought Julia, is much more interesting than sitting at home in Derbyshire doing needlework, or reading a book in my father’s library.

  As though being aware of her thoughts, Mr. Hatton said, “It might be very dangerous if we encounter the wrong people, so please do be careful what you say if we should meet anyone.”

  However, when they had left the carriage at the end of the track and walked up to the highest point, at first they found only the stumps of a group of trees, and visible in the distance at a lower level, there was an old farmhouse, which seemed to be defended by a group of barking dogs. Mr. Hatton did not venture in that direction, but pointed out to Julia various landmarks that could be seen from the vantage point, including a wide panorama of the coastline.

  It was as they turned to walk back to the carriage that they found a broad-shouldered man of middle height and with sparse grey hair standing on the path some distance ahead, looking directly at them. As they came closer, Julia could see that his coat was of good quality, buttoned high against the wind, and his hands were well kept, as though he was not used to manual labour.

  “Good day to you, sir,” he said in a local accent, entering into conversation with Mr. Hatton and introducing himself as the priest from the village church in Burton Bradstock. He acknowledged some acquaintance with the Lindsay family, and after some time Mr. Hatton turned the discussion adroitly towards the subject of smuggling.

  “Don’t you believe everything that you have heard about Isaac Gulliver, sir. He is in late middle age now, but was never a dangerous or violent man, just very skilful at his trade. It is some of those others in a new group operating closer to Bridport who are causing more trouble now.”

  Julia took more interest in the conversation at this point, since Mr. Hatton’s expression remained calm and apparently disinterested.

  “Why is that?” she asked.

  “They seem to be in a hurry to make a lot of money very quickly, Miss, and I’ve heard that anyone getting in their way can find that they get a very sore head for their pains!”

  “Oh! I see.”

  “And they are going for the very valuable fancy stuff, wines and silks—not tobacco or any of the other goods that sell so well around here.” The stranger suddenly recollected himself and changed the subject, inquiring where Mr. Hatton and his lady companion had come from. Mr. Hatton made a noncommittal reply, and shortly afterwards, they parted, with the priest making his way on towards the top of the hill.

  After Mr. Hatton had handed her back into the carriage, Julia remarked that she had noticed that all the tracks visible from the top of the hill had seemed to be very well used.

  “Yes,” said Mr. Hatton, “and I wonder who by—our new acquaintance, perhaps?”

  “Do you mean that he was not the priest, but a smuggler?”

  “Perhaps it doesn’t matter, Miss Maitland. But it was interesting what he said about a new group near Bridport. I think I shall make some discreet enquiries of James Lindsay tomorrow.”

  In their absence, Dr. Bulman had called to see Aunt Lucy, and the news was good. If her a
nkle continued to improve, she could consider returning home in a few days’ time.

  Julia had almost forgotten about the social event to which Lady Lindsay had invited her on Saturday evening, but Aunt Lucy definitely had not. Although she was not as managing as Julia’s mother, she did ask her niece all the details of what she was proposing to wear, including which dress, which shoes, and which jewellery.

  On the following evening, Martha was summoned to dress Julia’s curls in a fashionable style, and all the fussing over her appearance caused her to think that the enjoyment of the evening might be destroyed. However, the pleasure of descending the stairs at Morancourt and finding Mr. Hatton waiting for her in the hall also wearing his best hinted at the delights to come.

  Her cheeks were flushed with excitement, and her golden-brown hair was complemented by the colour of her new dress and the handsome necklace that Aunt Lucy had suggested that she should borrow for the evening.

  “May I say, Miss Maitland, that you are looking particularly fine this evening?”

  “Not ‘very overdressed,’ as you once remarked about some young ladies in Bath, sir?”

  He laughed at the recollection, and said, “No, definitely not, Miss Maitland!”

  The journey to Beaminster did not seem to take very long, and there they found Lady Lindsay and the rest of her party waiting for them. They ascended to the upper rooms, where a local band was playing a lively jig for the assembled company. Sir James immediately invited Julia to take the floor with him, and he proved to be a good dancer, with a light step and amusing conversation.

  “My cousin Patrick often comes to this kind of assembly when he is at home, but he sent a message to my aunt to say that he had been detained.”

  “What does your cousin do, Sir James?” Julia said. “Does he manage the family estate, or is he in the army?”

  “Neither, Miss Maitland. His father, my uncle by marriage, is still alive and well and in charge of his estate, but he does not often travel to visit us; Mrs. Jepson comes on her own. I’m not sure where my cousin goes. I know that he gets a reasonable allowance from his father, but he was not particularly interested in book learning at school, so did not go to university. I assume that he spends a good part of his time in town.”