“If you are willing, Miss Maitland, I suggest that we go this morning to the village school that I mentioned to you. My godmother appointed Mrs. Whitaker, the wife of the factor whom she hired to run the farm, to be the teacher.”
“I should be delighted,” said Julia, and she went to get her pelisse and gloves, as the weather was still rather grey.
Mr. Hatton handed Julia up into the curricle, and then went around to the other side to take his place beside her.
Before they started off, Julia said, “This curricle looks to be in very good condition, Mr. Hatton.”
He looked at her without expression, then took the reins for the two horses in his hands before he said, “It has been my only purchase so far since I inherited the estate. My father acquired a curricle for my mother when he bought Norton Place, and she taught me to drive it. You may know that not everyone approves of ladies having to handle two horses in a light carriage, as they think it might be too dangerous, but my father did not agree with that view.”
“So you purchased a curricle as soon as you knew that Morancourt was to be yours?”
He turned his head and looked at her directly for a moment before saying, “No, Miss Maitland, I purchased the curricle from a coach builder in Bath once I knew that you would be coming to Morancourt. It was here waiting for me when I returned from the city last week.”
He hesitated, and then continued, “I wanted to be able to take you out and, if you had not been taught to drive a curricle, hoped that I might be allowed to show you, if you wished that.”
For a few moments, Julia found it very difficult to think of a reply to this.
Finally, trying to speak lightly, she said, “That is one of the nicest surprises that anybody could give me. My father did once let me take the reins of a curricle owned by a friend, but only for a few minutes, and for a very short distance. We do not have one ourselves at Banford Hall.”
“Then my purchase is already worthwhile. Shall we start now?”
And he called to the footman to take his place on the footplate at the rear of the curricle.
Then Mr. Hatton tightened his grip on the reins and they set off along the drive away from the house. The village was about a mile further along the lane down a narrow valley, and Julia admired the way in which he controlled the horses around the sharp bends and down the slope into the village. Once or twice, he glanced at her, perhaps concerned that he might be driving too fast, but Julia found the journey exhilarating and was sorry when they reached the school gate and she had to get out.
The building was a low thatched structure situated next to the church. It had the appearance of a barn, but with a good number of mullioned windows looking out over the street. They walked up the path to the old timber door and, after Mr. Hatton knocked, he gestured her to go first and Julia entered, to find herself in a simple space with a row of desks at one end and the teacher’s table in the centre.
Mrs. Whitaker was sitting at the table, but immediately rose and curtsied to Mr. Hatton. She was a youngish woman, neatly dressed in a blue-grey cotton gown covered by an apron. The children sat wide-eyed in front of her at their desks, looking at the new arrivals. They were between about five and ten years of age, some rather raggedly attired, the boys each with a kerchief knotted around their necks, and the girls wearing aprons.
Mr. Hatton introduced Julia to Mrs. Whitaker, and the teacher gave up her seat to her and invited several of the children to come and sit around them.
“Would it be helpful,” said Julia, “if I told them a short story?”
“Please do, Miss Maitland,” said Mrs. Whitaker, and she stood with Mr. Hatton by her side whilst Julia explained the tale of Little Red Riding Hood. The children were particularly delighted at the animal noises that Julia made at appropriate points in the story, and she could see Mr. Hatton’s considerable amusement at this.
“Now, Mr. Hatton,” said Julia, “it’s your turn.” And he did not need much persuading to tell the children the fable of Cinderella.
After this, some of the girls showed Julia their efforts at needlework, and the boys some models that they had been making. After a few more words with Mrs. Whitaker, the visitors left.
“Did you notice something, Mr. Hatton?” she said as he handed her back into the curricle.
“What was that?” he said, surprised at her tone of voice.
“The boys’ kerchiefs, some of them were made of silk. I would not have expected that in a country area, and when their other clothes were mostly very worn and old.”
“Are you quite sure, Miss Maitland?”
“Yes, quite sure,” she said.
“Perhaps,” he said slowly, “Mrs. Whitaker had cut up some old material for them?”
“Perhaps, but the patterns were not all the same, and the silk material looked new to me.”
Mr. Hatton looked thoughtful as they drove back along the country lane to Morancourt, where they found Aunt Lucy quite content, doing some needlework and with her injured ankle resting on the chaise longue.
“Ah, there you are, Julia,” said her aunt. “A letter came for me whilst you were out. It is from your mother.”
“Oh—is there any news of Papa?”
“Not very much new. He is still resting a good part of the day and, you will be pleased to hear, reading some of the books that you chose for him before you left home.”
“Does Mama say anything about my travelling with you to Morancourt?”
“Well, yes, she does. She just suggests that you would have had better opportunities to meet more young people in Bath.”
Julia made a face, turning her head away as she did so, hoping that Mr. Hatton had not heard or could see her expression. That was a typical comment by her mother, when she was so enjoying herself away from the frivolities and often artificial atmosphere in Bath.
After luncheon, they left Aunt Lucy lying on the chaise longue, collected their outdoor wear, and went out onto the front forecourt of the house.
“I suggest, Miss Maitland, that you take a short turn in the curricle with me now, and try taking the reins. When you are learning, it is always best that the horses are not too fresh. They should be quite calm after our outing this morning to the village school.”
She readily agreed, but was surprised that they did not immediately set off.
“There is one thing that you must always remember about a curricle, Miss Maitland. They may be fast-moving, but they are inherently unstable. So there must always be a servant—a footman or someone else—on the footplate at the back to balance the vehicle. Because of the rush of the wind, he cannot hear our conversation. But without him, we would be at risk of overturning, however carefully we drive.”
And Mr. Hatton waited whilst the footman took his place before they started off. Then followed one of the most enjoyable hours of Julia’s life to date.
Mr. Hatton showed her how to take the reins in her hands and to apply pressure gently to guide the horses first one way and then another, then to bring them smoothly to a halt when she wanted to. To begin with, Julia found this quite difficult, but with practice she found that the horses began to follow her will, and the direction and speed that she wanted.
They took a circuit of the drive from the house past the stables to the gatehouse, and then back to the manor, and then repeated that several times. Finally, Mr. Hatton took the reins again himself and steered the curricle back towards the house. Julia was profuse in her thanks, and was about to get down from the carriage when he asked her to wait for a moment.
After he had dismissed the footman, he said, “Could I ask you, Miss Maitland, whether your mother is much like her sister, your aunt Mrs. Harrison?”
She looked at him for a few moments. “No, not very much. Of course, it is much easier to be good-humoured and generous with your time when you have plenty of money and no children to worry about, as is the case with my aunt. She is older than my mother, and they are two very different people. I am told that I am much more like my father than Mama. Harriet, my youngest sister, is good fun, and you might find her the most like my aunt of the three of us. It is Sophie, my middle sister, who is more like my mother.”
He looked at her without replying for some moments, so she added, “Why do you ask?”
“Only that I have noticed that you seemed more at ease in Bath, and happily here also, than you did in Derbyshire.”
“There are many reasons for that, sir,” she said. “It has been so much easier to relax here in the West Country, whereas there have been so many more pressures on me lately back at home.”
He nodded, then helped her down from the curricle, and they entered the house.
Later that evening, Julia helped her aunt to compose a reply to Mama’s letter, which said enough, but not too much, about what they might be currently doing. By mutual consent, her aunt did not mention the accident to her ankle—only that Julia was enjoying meeting all kinds of people in the locality. This might, she thought, be some exaggeration, but it should divert Mama from any ideas of calling her back home when she would much rather stay where she was.
“You once mentioned Holkham in Norfolk, Mr. Coke’s house and estate,” said Mr. Hatton the following morning. “Have you been there yourself, Miss Maitland?”
“No, I have read about it, but it was my father’s factor who went there, at my brother David’s suggestion. He came back with so many ideas for improvements to my family’s property. As it turned out, with the failure of the bank in Derby, the opportunity to make quite simple changes to the way our land is being used has meant that the income is already increasing from my father’s estate. That has been most useful at a time when the money coming from other sources has been reduced.” Then she saw his expression. “You are surprised that I know about such things?”
“No—only that any young lady should be interested,” he said, rather shamefaced. “I cannot imagine that my mother would have been the same.”
“Was she a practical person, Mr. Hatton?”
“In housekeeping, and in house decoration, yes, but she did not have a great curiosity about money or anything new. Rather like Jack—I am sure that you have not forgotten that from your visit to Norton Place!”
“Would I have liked her?”
He thought for a few moments. “In some ways, yes—she loved books, but she was also rather reclusive and shy. That led some people to say that she had a cold manner. Everyone was very surprised, I’ve been told, when she decided that she wanted to marry my father, for she had far grander suitors. But she recognised in my father a kindness and a generosity of manner lacking in most of the others.”
“I liked your father very much,” said Julia, “but he said very little to me about your mother, although of course he does not know me very well.”
“He was absolutely devastated when she died,” said Mr. Hatton. “As you know, I came back from Spain after she passed away, and I have never seen him so distraught. He really did not know what to do with himself. To be fair to Jack, my brother, he had done his best to console him, and it was a comfort to both of them when I returned home.”
“Did your father have any problems persuading your mother’s relations to allow her to marry him?”
“Her family was not keen on the idea at all. The match did not meet their expectations for the daughter of a baronet, but my father’s wealth, and her total determination, finally wore them down. You would approve of that, I would guess?”
Julia gave a wide smile. “But of course, Mr. Hatton!”
She wondered why he paused before replying, but that smile always distracted him, and made his heart skip a beat.
“I hope that you will be impressed,” he said, “if I tell you that I have written to Mr. Coke in Norfolk to ask if I may attend the next sheep-shearing and the annual gathering at Holkham, and I plan to take Mr. Whitaker with me. But that will not be for a few months. So will you come with me now to meet him, and explain a little of what he might learn there?”
She readily agreed, and they walked together down the drive and then along a side turning towards the group of farm buildings. There, inside the cattle shed, they found the factor busy with two farmhands to help him, forking over the hay and penning the animals at one end of the shed whilst they did so.
After the introductions, Mr. Hatton said to Mr. Whitaker, “Miss Maitland has some knowledge of the practices used by Mr. Coke at Holkham Hall, John. They are already being employed on her father’s land at Banford Hall in Derbyshire.”
Julia then explained how her father had changed the type of cattle that he kept on the estate, and that he used oil cake and roots to feed them.
“He has also introduced wheat as a crop where the land is suitable, drilling the ground rather than scattering the seed by hand. That seems to give a much higher yield than the rye grown previously, and he makes much greater use of manure and bones as fertilisers. I have been told that these methods of managing the estate have greatly increased the yields.”
“Rather a lot to remember, John,” said Mr. Hatton, “but I am told that seeing the practices in action in Norfolk is the best way of understanding it all.”
Mr. Whitaker looked very interested, and told Julia that he would be glad to learn more. He then showed her around the farm buildings and explained the areas where repairs and improvements were being considered.
“Where do you and your family live, Mr. Whitaker? We met your wife at the school yesterday, teaching the children,” said Julia.
“Our house is further south from here, Miss Maitland, closer to the village and not far from the road towards the sea.”
“How old is it, Mr. Whitaker? Is it the same age as Morancourt?”
Mr. Hatton suddenly looked apologetic. “Mr. Whitaker, I should have asked you before whether your house needs any attention?”
“It’s an old place, sir. We like it as it is,” he replied.
I wonder if his wife agrees that the house does not need attention, thought Julia. If Morancourt needs renovating, surely the servants’ homes do as well?
“Would you object,” said Julia, “if we call in to see your wife one day?”
“No, of course not, Miss Maitland, if you would like to do that. The school is open only in the mornings, so that the children can help their parents on the land in the later part of the day. So my wife gets home at about one o’clock.”
On the way back, Julia asked her host about his opinion of Mr. Whitaker.
“I am not sure. It may be difficult for him to have someone taking a more active interest at such short notice.”
“You have told me before that some people don’t like change. Perhaps his attitude will improve?”
“Don’t mistake me—he is not being rude or surly in his manner. There is just something that I cannot put my finger on for the moment.”
Julia considered this. “I would like to go with you and visit their house soon, if you agree?”
He indicated his assent to this idea, and they walked back to the house to find how Aunt Lucy was progressing. Much to their amusement, they found that Mrs. Jones had brought her recipe book from the kitchen and was writing down several ideas suggested by Aunt Lucy for the menus later that week.
“Now, Mrs. Jones, have you a recipe for syllabub? My cook in Bath has the most excellent means of making that.”
Mrs. Jones looked suitably impressed, and sent Martha to find more pages to insert in her book to write on.
“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.