Broken down by age and sex

Sandy scowled at her as he went sit in the chair opposite and helped himself to a muffin.

I will not attempt, she said, to engage you in conversation until you have been fortified.

He scowled but said nothing.

Shortly afterwards came Hector with coffee and hotter muffins as well as a platter of bacon and grilled kidneys.

Clorinda continued to read her correspondence – oh, fie, here are the orphanage ladies go be troublesome yet again, I must go call on Lady Jane betimes so that we may devize some plan to rout 'em – sure I have no engagements this very afternoon –

Most unwonted! Sandy remarked, as he poured himself a third cup of coffee.

– though I go dine at the Wallaces this e’en, to bid farewell to dear Polly Fendersham and Mr Enderby. But my dear, are you now restored to waking consciousness once more, had a thought while reading a letter from Barbara Collins –

They are all well, I hope?

O, entirely, business flourishes, &C, though she misses young Una. But thinking of how well they are doing out of horseflesh over there, wondered if that young groom that fell foul of Blatchett had any notion to seeking his fortune in the colonies?

Sand raised his eyebrows and took a drink of coffee. 'Tis indeed a thought, he agreed. For quite apart from our concerns over Lady Isabella, I have come to consider that Blatchett may come to wonder what else young Oxton might have seen – even he might find a guilty conscience preying upon him from time to time – and take further measures.

La, Mr MacDonald, did you ever essay the Gothic mode? But that is a point well taken.

Let us not dilly-dally, then: I must to the godless institution this morn, but may take myself into Berkshire and Offerton’s stables to sound Oxton out later. 'Tis no great journey.

Clorinda nodded. 'Tis the wisest course. And you may mention that there is a philanthropic scheme for aiding such deserving young persons to emigrate –

There is? – Clorinda smiled – Ah.

So that was one piece of good work dispatched, or at least, well in hand, so early in the day, very gratifying!

But she must look into the matter of the orphanage – alas, dear Dumpling Dora Pockinford had been sadly distracted of late – even had the Honble Simon pulled round from those shocking ways of which the Pockinfords did not speak but of which Clorinda had heard from Josh, that had prevented the boy from laying violent hands upon himself, it must fret a mother that he was now going so distant, and doubtless she imagined all sorts of perils. 'Twixt that, and first Aggie and now Thea showing religious leanings that were anathema to Lord Pockinford’s Evangelicalism, that family was not at its most harmonious. And her deputy, her daughter-in-law Lady Demington, only very lately returned from recovering her heath in Harrogate.

'Twas no wonder matters were somewhat awry!

So Clorinda gathered up the necessary papers – the Matron at least was a good businesslike woman! – and had the horses put to the carriage to take her to that quiet and unfashionable but perfectly respectable neighbourhood where Lady Jane had her apartments, adjacent to those of Amelia Addington. Looking out of the carriage window, Clorinda saw signs that these streets were coming up, 'twas no wonder, were convenient for a deal of matters.

Nick Jupp handed her down, and said he would take the carriage round to the King’s Head and tend to the cattle there –

And I hope you will tend to yourself and take a mug of ale or so!

She was rather surprized, on entering Lady Jane’s sanctum, to find the place in a considerable bustle of company – there was Janey Merrett, and Amelia, and, why, Viola Mulcaster – 'twas quite the family gathering –

But also, over at the pianoforte, that Lady Jane was finding her fingers rather too stiff to play herself these days, but that Janey came to play to her quite frequent, Zipsie Rondegate and Thea Saxorby.

Lady Bexbury! cried Lady Jane, beginning to rise, as Clorinda besought her not to do so. I have a rare treat brought to me the day. Lady Rondegate has been rehearsing Lady Theodora in dear Grace’s settings of Sappho’s lyrics – lately turned 'em up among some papers sent from Nitherholme – Miss McKeown had copies –

But how charming! said Clorinda, taking a chair. One must suppose that dear Viola must have had somewhat to do with this – showed very well in her, when one recalled her own disastrous history with those songs, as a very young woman just out in Society.

Zipsie waxed very effusive about the songs, to Lady Jane’s perceptible gratification. O, she said, I must have been in some concern that they would be considered sadly old-fashioned – not to mention the work of an amateur hand –

Not in the least, declared Zipsie, showed 'em to Uncle Casimir and he wondered was there any other compositions of hers surviving.

That was praise indeed!

So after some preliminary exercizes, Zipsie and Thea commenced upon the recital.

O, though Clorinda, that one might prevail upon Thea to perform at one’s drawing-room meetings, if not at a soirée. Such a voice. Not, perchance, these songs – mayhap somewhat unsuited to the taste of the present day? – one supposed Thea was ignorant of the life of the poet –

Tears were running down Lady Jane’s face, a most unwonted event.

Amelia Addington was an actress, and capable of keeping in character whatever disasters were going forward on stage or in the wings or even was there a riot in the audience – yet to Clorinda’s eye of old acquaintance, there seemed an air of – of distress?

The song became silent.

O my dears, said Lady Jane, blowing her nose, you have given me a great gift. I never thought to hear those songs again, and you performed them exquisitely.

Clorinda stood up and said, did not wish to be uncivil, but saw that they were about to engage in deep musical converse, and collected that she needed to talk to Miss Addington about a drawing-room meeting, might they step aside for that?

She drew Amelia out into the corridor, where the actress sank her head onto Clorinda’s shoulder and burst into tears.

Dearest Amelia, she said as she put an arm about her, you should not think that she loved who His Grace always refers to as that jealous Billston hag more than you – she remembers, doubtless, happy times of youth but that is very much about those years –

O, sobbed Amelia, it is not that. It is that I think of how ephemeral my own art is. I strut and fret an hour upon the stage –

Things were very bad was she quoting the Scottish play! Clorinda made certain gestures learnt in her youth backstage.

– and 'tis gone. Mayhap a critic will remark upon me in a newspaper, that will then wrap fish.

And you have taught a deal of generations of other actors. I daresay in Sydney there is Orlando Richardson saying, Addington did thus and so – I remember how Addington directed this scene – you will never come up to Addington in that role –

She gave a weak giggle.

– in New York I daresay Charlie Darcy reminisces, though careful to add that of course, his wife is in a very different style – would that one might see the pair of you together on stage –

Amelia mopped her eyes and blew her nose. 

– And one dares imagine that in heaven the great dramatists gather round and debate the rival virtues of your performance and that of Mrs Siddons in their great roles.

You flattering weasel! she exclaimed.

Is it not a vocation to bring those works to life?

The two women embraced and Amelia said sure she was being very foolish. And mayhap the late Miss Billston had had a pretty talent but she had led poor Lady Jane a sad dance – jealous scenes, and then getting up flirtations herself when they went into Society – and making a deal of her poor health –

Clorinda stroked her hair and said that Lady Jane had been young – only just coming into the understanding of her nature – in maturer years she had made a wiser choice –

She will even say as much, Amelia admitted. Let us go in, and make sober compliments to the performers.

They discovered Lady Jane quite exhorting Lady Theodora to consider upon the Parable of the Talents – and what is that fine passage from the Bard that you are wont to quote, Lady Bexbury, about not concealing our virtues but letting them shine forth?

Thea was blushing, and murmuring that mayhap she should think upon that.

So Clorinda went away, having agreed upon a further rencontre to talk orphanage, feeling that that had been an agreeable occasion and that mayhap Thea would come about to let her virtues go forth of her.

And now there was going to dine with the Wallaces, that had been wont to be an entire pleasure but had been constrained for many months by the louring presence of Lord Fendersham.

However, on her arrival she was greeted with positively giddy glee by Sir Barton and Susannah Wallace, as well as Bobbie and Scilla, conveying the very happy news that Fendersham was finally ceasing to be the prodigal father and returning home to take up his responsibilities.

Has been all day about settling various of his affairs – his valet about packing – takes a morning train –

So even though we are saddened to have dear Lady Fendersham going away for who knows how long, said Susannah, flourishing her lorgnette, we cannot be other than merry at this prospect.

Well indeed, thought Clorinda, wondering how it had come about. Had been quite unable to fathom how she herself might contrive such an end!

Later that night, darling Leda giggled and said, la, did Clorinda take a pet that some other hand had wrought this?

At which she laughed herself and said, was heartily glad that there were other hands that might undertake these burdens.

But before she left, she had two missions to undertake.

She was staying with the Wallaces, the dear hospitable creatures, and most fortunate, Bobbie and Scilla had just lately returned from visiting Firlbrough to sound out the feeling there in advance of the anticipated General Election.

Also staying with the Wallaces, a much unwanted guest, was her stepson, Lord Fendersham, that continued to linger in Town even though Lady Wauderkell had gone on a retreat in a convent.

Polly had almost immediate upon her arrival in Town gone seek out Lady Bexbury, that she fancied would have the most useful intelligence upon this matter, and she was not in the least deluded.

Why, said Lady Bexbury, pouring tea, and drawing Polly’s attention to the cake-stand, I confide she continues to reside there because Lord Fendersham is unlike to venture within a league of a nunnery. And while I daresay the accommodation may be a little austere, and the food somewhat plain, 'twill all be a great improvement over Newgate. Furthermore, I apprehend from my friend that is a sister in the convent that she takes up her pen once more –

Polly groaned.

– takes up her pen to write improving tales for young people of the childhood of various saints, that will be published and sold for the benefit of the convent. So she is not idle – attends the various offices during the day – has had several visits from her cousin from Cork with a view to settling their legal difficulties – passing the time really quite agreeably until the evidence comes from Chicago confirming O’Neill’s previous marriage so the case can go to court.

One hears, she added, that there is an antient suitor in Cork that is now a widower still yearns –

Polly snorted. One might suppose she had had quite enough of marriage.

Lady Bexbury raised her eyebrows and remarked that one must only suppose that with some, 'twas like unto a laudanum habit, a craving that they could not resist.

So she was able to go to Andrew, armed with this intelligence, although she intended to present him first with an appeal to duty. For had been approached by various neighbours and local dignitaries discreetly asking when Lord Fendersham was going to return and put matters in order, and with an election forthcoming, surely 'twas prudent that he should be at home.

For indeed, at present Fendersham Hall was a scene of riotous living by Drew Fendersham and his cronies. There was not a great deal of harm in Drew himself, but Polly did not feel so sure about some of the set that gathered about him. There was a deal of drinking, and while at first they had been engaged in the usual country pleasures, as far as the season permitted, latterly there had been a resort to cards as well as billiards, and, she feared, high play.

There her stepson was, sitting reading the Times with an expression of great disapproval, though indeed that was his normal expression. As he grew older he came to look a deal more like her late husband, but he had never had such sour looks. Oh, he had taken pets when he thought some fellow or other was showing Polly undue attention, and in his later years when he became invalid was wont to be fussy and demanding. But he had taken pleasure in life, simple though his pleasures were – give us a jolly tune, Poll! – and while he had not had particularly sensitive feelings, had been within his limits, kind.

Her stepson had been conscientious, and ever done the proper things, before this recent upheaval, but she had never felt that there was kindness.

She sat down opposite him and decided to go straight at the point. Everybody has been asking when you intend to return to Fendersham Hall and take matters in hand, she said. Your presence is considerably missed in local affairs as well as about the business of the estate. Drew is entirely irresponsible and treats the house as an inn, inviting who knows what chance-met boon companions under your roof.

He looked up from the newspaper and blinked at her.

I have been doing what I can, but I am going to Peru to visit Christie, that I have not seen these many years. And there is a deal that only you can attend to. Your father, she added, may have been given to self-indulgence – had not the present Lord Fendersham expatiated upon this theme to his father’s very face? – but did not neglect the duties of his position, even did he undertake 'em with a deal of sighing and groaning.

Fendersham emitted a sound somewhere 'twixt a moan and a whine. Then said that felt obliged to remain in Town lest Lady Wauderkell should need him –

Lady Wauderkell, said Polly, managing not to snap out the words, is very comfortable in the convent – you must not at all imagine a grim cell – bread and water – kneeling on hard stone. I have been assured that the guest quarters are entire what one would desire. She was not conveyed there by sinister monks directed by a conniving Jesuit priest, and is under no kind of duress. She has chosen to stay there now that she, as one understands, returns to the faith that she was brought up in.

Profound groan from her stepson.

Furthermore, there is a cousin from Cork comes to Town, about some matter to do with their business there, and is entire willing and competent to look after her interests – prepares to come to a compromise in the lawsuit &C – offers that is there aught he may do to assist her suit in this case of bigamy he is entire at her disposal –

Further groans.

Really, Andrew, I am astonished the Wallaces have not dosed your tea with laudanum and bundled you on to the next train going north, under care in the guard’s van! 'Tis a shocking abuse of hospitality the way you linger here.

He flushed. Really, he did not look at all healthy. Town life did not suit him. And was he literally pouting?

She left him to seethe and brood.

Her other mission was a good deal more agreeable! And it was a very agreeable jaunt out there in the carriage that the Wallaces had insisted that she took. She had no particular qualms about how Una Wallace did in the Ferraby household – would doubtless have heard was there any matter of illness – but still, she would like to be assured that the girl was doing well, for it must be a considerable change for her.

Indeed, Blackheath, though fine and green and leafy, and sure far more healthful than Town, was very different from a farm in Nova Scotia! And one must wonder how Una, that had been brought up among older people, got on now she was with the boisterous Ferraby girls and going to school.

Here they were, at this very fine house in excellent grounds that the Sir Harry Ferrabys occupied. And quite running out to greet her Lady Louisa, in very merry mood.

O, Lady Fendersham – oh, Polly – such a pleasure to see you! The girls are in the garden, a-romping with the little boys, so very pretty, come see.

So Polly stepped down from the carriage, and Lady Louisa instructed the coachman where to go, and then to go to the kitchen for refreshment.

Peru! she cried. So venturesome of you – Josh has been in some envy of the excursion –

Fie, said Polly, one apprehends that Lima is a fine modern city, I have no intention of making expeditions into forests and jungles, will leave that to Mr Enderby and his young apprentice.

Are there not, murmured Lady Louisa, enormous snakes in those parts that are said to swallow animals whole? and might one ingest Simon Saxorby? A very annoying young man.

O, he is somewhat improved though now will bore one quite like unto Mr Nixon about Peru and its history and its fauna &C.

Lou giggled.

They came out into the garden, where Hester and Maria Ferraby along with Una were playing at catch with their little brothers Hal, that was already breeched, and Gervase, that was still in dresses, though looking at him, Lou sighed that 'twas nigh time to cut those curls and put him into breeches.

Polly sighed too, thinking of the day when she had performed the like for Christie.

Quite letting fall the ball in her to come running up and embrace Polly, Una Wallace. Most delightful! For Una had been wont to be a little reserved and shy, one dared say that being among the Ferrabys had perchance given her easier manners than those she had learnt from Barbara Collins, that, though a very fine woman, had learnt hers in an earlier day, so that they showed somewhat of a stiffness in a child of Una’s years?

Oh, Auntie Polly, how exceeding! Do you come a long visit?

Polly looked down into the dark eyes, noting the healthy rose that had come to her cheeks – the gloss of the dark hair – one need be in no concern at all about the sanitive benefits of her present residence.

Alas, said Polly, stooping to kiss her, I only came for this very afternoon – am about to depart for Peru to visit my son, and his wife, that I have never yet met –

Una’s mouth drooped a little, before she straightened her shoulders and said, they would go look that up in the big atlas – study upon it mayhap –

The Ferraby sister came up to shake hands and make their curtseys and demonstrate that they were not, as their mother sighed, quite wild savages. Hal essayed a bow.

Came out of his workshop Sir Harry, and Una turned to him with a smile, that was warmly returned.

Here, said Sir Harry, is Miss Wallace shows a deal of interest in engineering.

Well! No, one could not have the least worry about Una, in this place. Little Gervase, clutching her hand – It was well.