1 19th century American slang for ‘superior.’
CHAPTER 20
The following morning, Elizabeth and Mary descended the stairs to find Mr Cartwright and Captain Lytton waiting for them along with Elizabeth’s footman. “May we escort you ladies on your constitutional?” asked Captain Lytton chivalrously. “I find I cannot lie abed after all of my years in the navy, and would be glad to explore the lovely gardens.”
“I intend to walk a great deal farther than the gardens, Captain, but we have no objection to your company,” Elizabeth answered with a smile.
Mary took the captain’s arm when it was offered, giving Elizabeth a silent look of excitement at having been singled out in any way so soon. Elizabeth took the arm of Mr Cartwright, and set off outdoors, the small group followed by Elizabeth’s footman.
As they passed the lake there was a great squawking about by the water, and they looked over to see one of the chaperones, Mrs Higglebottom, running as fast as she was able in her skirts while being chased by an enormous hissing swan.
The lady was giggling and exclaiming, “Barnaby, you rogue!”
“That bird will break your arm one day!” shouted another of thechaperones, Mr Ignatius Wifflethorpe, shaking his head in disapproval as he made his way to the gardens.
“What do you suppose that is about?” Mr Cartwright asked their group.
“One of the chaperones last night, oh dear I forgot her name, told me that Mrs Higglebottom believes that the widowed swan is the reincarnation of her husband, Barnaby.” Mary watched as the lady sped by them, giggling, as the swan returned to the water.
“You cannot be serious.” Mr Cartwright looked after the swan as it departed their vicinity. “That does not make any sense.”
“Perhaps it brings her comfort,” Elizabeth suggested.
“Let us hope that it does not, as the other chaperone suggested, bring her a broken arm.” Captain Lytton turned with Mary away from the water. “Swans are impressively strong. I would hate to see the lady harmed.”
“So Mr Cartwright,please, tell me about your business,” said Elizabeth, as they headed beyond the green into a small lane that headed towards the fields and tenant farms.
“My business is in steam engines,” answered Mr Cartwright easily.
“Truly? Like machine powered ships?” asked Elizabeth.
“Yes indeed, my engines power ships that travel the canals, and are also used in mills, factories, and even in mines, to pump out water,” said Mr Cartwright. “You probably would not like to hear how they work.”
“Indeed I would, I am always interested in edification, even about trade. The world around us is such an interesting place, is it not?” said Elizabeth.
Mary and Captain Lytton walked behind them as Mr Cartwright began an explanation of the steam engine, and how it operated. Elizabeth found the information interesting, until it would not stop. After an hour, Mr Cartwright would not cease speaking of steam engines, nomatter how many times Elizabeth attempted to turn the conversation. She looked back at Mary in a panic, but Mary was enjoying the attention of the captain, who was regaling her with tales of his exploits in the navy.
They returned after an hour and a half of exploring, Mary was fatigued, and the gentlemen went off to do whatever it was that men did in the early mornings. Elizabeth and Mary went to change out of their walking gowns, finding Jane at her vanity putting the final touches on her hair.
“I can see that you two have been up for hours,” she teased. “Have you made a head start on courtships?”
“Perhaps Mary has, but I have heard enough about steam engines to last me a lifetime. I could build one myself,” answered Elizabeth.
“You did invite him to edify you on the subject, Lizzy,” laughed Mary.
“That is a mistake I shall not make again. I thought he would turn the conversation eventually,” said Elizabeth. “How did you find Captain Lytton?”
“I never thought I should be interested in a man in uniform, but he is exceedingly kind and funny,” answered Mary. “Who knows if his interest will continue, or if I was a convenient ear while the other ladies were still abed. It is too early to start having hopes anyway, we know none of these men properly.”
The ladies went downstairs to breakfast. Some of the chaperones were absent, preferring to break their fasts in their bedrooms. There were six of them, and they were all highly interesting people. First there was Major Archibald Bartholomew, a retired officer from the revolutionary wars who had come home with a head injury, and presumably had not been quite right ever since. His family had no desire to manage him, and his clothes did not match, but he was a harmless man, good-natured, and ebullient. He was the proclaimed chaperone of the gardens, having a great interest in botany. Mrs Darlington warned the guests to request his assistance when cutting flowers in the gardens, for he expended a great deal of labour on the care of the verdure, and was particular about his plants. Mrs Darlington sought his advice on all subjects, and though his answerssounded preposterous, his advice always made perfect sense once one considered the matter.
There were two writers, the first a gentleman in his fifties, Mr Ignatius Wifflethorpe, a scholar who was writing about the history of the local attraction, a work that was published in small volumes, calledSecrets of Avalon - The Unveiling of Glastonbury Tor. His silver hair had tell tale streaks of the auburn it had once been, and his eyes betrayed the exhaustion of too many sleepless nights spent over his manuscripts. He carried everywhere a battered leather satchel held together with makeshift repairs. His hands and clothing were stained with ink. He had a mischievous wit, and a dry humour that Elizabeth found endearing. He was the chaperone who would be in charge of all tours of the local historical attractions, which in the surrounding villages were many.
Mr Wifflethorpe was rather disdainful of Miss Prudence Larkspur, a romance authoress, age forty-one, who found inspiration amongst the characters and courtships at Ever After End. She carried a small journal and pencil everywhere, making notes and muttering dialogue to herself, much to the bewilderment of the guests. She was rather more particular about her attire than Mr Wifflethorpe, but there were telltale streaks of ink on her hands. She collected souvenirs from the romances of the house parties, pressed flowers, scraps of ribbon, place cards, as mementos in a scrapbook, and though she had written five books already, – four of which Elizabeth had read by monthly pamphlet and loved – she yearned to earn enough to live properly by her pen. For now, she was content to remain at Ever After End with dear Mrs Darlington, who had a penchant for taking in strays.
Lady Millicent Snogswell seemed to be the harbinger of propriety. A formidable spinster with a booming voice and sharp tongue, she obviously prided herself onkeeping the young ones proper.She carried a large feathered fan everywhere that she used to swat the young people when she thought they were too boisterous.
Mrs Octavia Higglebottom was a lively and perpetually distracted widow who constantly misplaced her spectacles, leading to mistaken identities and comical misunderstandings. She spent a great deal oftime by the lake, harassing a widowed swan that had never taken another mate.
