The Forest - Edward Rutherfurd [286]
‘You must admit,’ Edward Totton remarked quietly to his sister, as they waited for their guest to emerge from the house, ‘I bring you only the best.’
Mr Wyndham Martell was the third eligible bachelor he had brought to the house in the space of a year. One had been a young fellow – too young, really, but heir to a large estate – who was still at Oxford with him. Another young blood he had brought with the promise of attending the local races had shown a strong interest in Louisa – so strong that when he got a little drunk she had to fight him off and he was asked to leave. Still, even these encounters had added to her small store of knowledge of human nature and the outside world; and her attitude to these encounters – although she would not have used such words – might best be expressed as: keep them coming.
Martell, however, was quite another story. Martell, as her brother put it, was ‘serious business’. He supposed she might be rather afraid of the stern landowner.
‘I’ve watched him,’ she replied. ‘He’s proud – after all, he has so much to be proud about. But he likes to be amused.’
‘So do you mean to amuse him?’
‘No,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘But I shall let him suppose that I might.’ She glanced at the door of the house. ‘Here he comes.’
Martell was in an excellent humour. He had not been quite sure what the Tottons’ household would be like, for he had never stayed with a member of the provincial merchant class before. So far he had been agreeably surprised. The house was a handsome Georgian place with a sweep of drive and a view to the sea. It was about the size of a good rectory, the sort of home that might belong to the younger brother of the landowner, an admiral, or someone of that sort. Mrs Totton turned out to be a handsome woman of his own class, related to several families he knew. As for Mr Totton the merchant, they had only had time to speak a few words, but he seemed both sensible and easy, entirely a gentleman. If young Edward Totton had any idea that his position in society was lacking in some way, Martell considered, he should be told not to be silly, and not to insult his parents.
‘We’ll make a tour of the town first,’ said Edward as Wyndham Martell joined them. And it being a fine day, they decided to walk.
They made a leisurely progress into Lymington and down the High Street. Martell admired the shops – Swateridge the watchmakers, Sheppard the gunsmith, Wheeler’s china store – and the numerous signs of the place’s prosperous gentility. He insisted on spending some time in the bookseller’s. He noted the brass plate on the fashionable doctor’s house and that Mr St Barbe the merchant had even started a High Street bank. He learned that the postal service came down the swift turnpike road from London four days a week, arriving at the Angel Inn; as did the diligence, as the stage coach was called, from Southampton – that fifteen-mile journey being covered in as little as two and a half hours. He was impressed.
They went down to the quay, where there were several small vessels tied up, then round by the salterns before returning to the house with a good appetite for dinner.
Mr Totton and his wife kept an excellent table. The meal began with a light pea soup and bread, followed by a fish course; this was then removed to make way for the first main course, which consisted of dishes of sirloin of beef, turkey in prune sauce, stewed venison and fried celery. The men drank claret; Louisa, who usually drank currant wine at home, joined her mother today with champagne.
The conversation was light and sociable. Mrs Totton spoke of the ancient forest deer, the king’s recent visit, of places he should see and told stories about them. Louisa, her large eyes, it seemed to Martell, hinting at reserves of humour behind her demure countenance, gave a good account of some of the plays to be seen at the playhouse and how they were acted.