Lavender felt very strongly that her mama had been quite right and would not approve of her daughter’s current indisposition.
Lavender sighed. She knew that some of her restlessness sprang from the thoughts she had been having the previous day about her place at Hewly and her future plans. She felt unsettled, unfulfilled. Something was missing…
She went first to the church and laid some fresh flowers from the Hewly gardens on the grave of her father, Admiral Brabant. The graveside, in a quiet corner of the churchyard under a spreading oak, was peaceful and somehow comforting. Lavender sat down on a wooden seat nearby and rested her chin on her hand. Perhaps her father could help her sort her thoughts into some kind of order. He had always been a stickler for method and regulation during his lifetime.
It occurred to her that he had left her a considerable sum of money, and that that would enable her to leave Hewly if she so desired and to set up in a respectable house elsewhere. She could engage a companion—certainly she could afford to engage several—and if she were to find someone as amenable as Caroline, she would count herself lucky. Perhaps Lady Perceval could help her, for that matron was so well connected and well informed that she would know of any suitable persons seeking employment. The idea held some appeal but it also held some drawbacks. Lavender acknowledged that she liked living at Hewly and she liked the Abbey villages, and indeed, no one was trying to drive her away. Lewis and Caroline would no doubt be mortified if they even suspected her thoughts. She sighed again. Her musings did not seem to be getting her very far.
Lavender looked at the neat mound of her father’s grave. She could imagine him addressing her, puffing out his chest in the imposing manner in which he used to lecture to his sailors: ‘Action, not inaction is the solution to any crisis. Cease this foolish wool-gathering, my girl, and get about your business!’
With a faint smile, Lavender got to her feet and picked up the basket.
She could always marry. The thought popped into her head as she was walking back around the church and heard the clock strike the hour. She had always been accustomed to thinking of herself as at her last prayers, but Caroline was nine and twenty, a good five years older than she. Perhaps there was a chance—although not much a chance of finding a husband as good as her brother.
Lavender considered the idea idly as she walked into the town. Her bridegroom would need to be an intelligent man who would appreciate a bluestocking wife and enjoy discussing weighty matters with her. He would encourage her sketching and her writing and would have plenty of interests of his own. He would not be at all the sort of man to want a pretty ninnyhammer, for she was well aware that her looks were no more than ordinary. He would need to be possessed of a reasonable competence, to live in the country and to shun the society pursuits that she had so detested when she had visited London. Lavender started to laugh at her own absurdity, but the thought persisted. As for age, well, she was prepared to accept an older man, for he was likely to have more sense, and as for looks…Here, with startling clarity, the face of Barnabas Hammond appeared before her eyes.
All Lavender’s recent good humour vanished. She shook her head a little sharply to dispel the image but it was too late. She felt cross-grained and irritable and for two pins she would tell Caroline to run her own errands in future. She walked up the main street of Abbot Quincey positively scowling, and arrived in front of the draper’s shop.
Hammonds General Store in Abbot Quincey was not as imposing as Arthur Hammond’s emporium in Northampton, but it served a small town very well. Now that the seasons were turning, Mr Hammond had draped winter fustian and twilled cashmere about the door, and huge bolts of the cloth were stacked on shelves inside. Arthur Hammond himself was behind the counter and was encouraging the doctor’s wife to feel the quality of the nankeen that he had spread out over the top. He was a big man, florid and full of bonhomie. As ever, he was smart in a tailed coat and old-fashioned knee breeches, with a waistcoat straining over his ample stomach. He always dressed like a gentleman.
‘All our materials are purchased in London, of course,’ Lavender heard him say, in the oily tone that she so detested, ‘and you will not find a better quality of cloth anywhere, ma’am…’
He broke off when he saw Lavender and hurried to greet her, which set her teeth on edge even more. She noticed that Barney came forward unobtrusively from the shadows to smooth over his father’s defection and flatter Mrs Pettifer into making the purchase. Lavender felt awkward. She had no wish for Hammond to snub the doctor’s wife just because she was from Hewly Manor and Hammond always curried favour with his noble clients. Besides, she was only buying ribbons and thread.
Lavender’s transaction was almost completed when Barney emerged from the stockroom carrying a trestle table obviously intended for the display of some new goods. He gave Lavender a slight nod as he passed, but did not even speak to her. She knew that he was working and did not have time for idle chatter, but nevertheless Lavender felt slightly crushed, and was annoyed with herself for feeling so. She put her purse away, thanked Mr Hammond for his help, and made for the door.
It opened before she got there, to admit two girls whom Lavender recognised as the daughters of a farmer over towards Abbot Giles. Both had dark curly hair, and open, laughing faces. They were giggling together as they came into the shop, and edged over to the table where Barney was now arranging winter bonnets on the hat stands. Lavender paused to watch. Her first thought was how incongruous it was to see a man of Barney’s calibre working on ladies bonnets. Her second thought was how much she disliked the giggling, pouting girls, who were now looking flirtatiously at Barney from under their lashes and asking him questions that were punctuated frequently by coy laughter.
As she stood in the doorway, Arthur Hammond bustled up, clearly unamused by all the banter. He berated Barney for his lack of skill with the display, cowed the girls with one sharp glance, and set to rearranging the bonnets, flitting here and there like a preening bird. It seemed to Lavender that whilst the son and heir had no disposition towards drapery, the father was obviously in his element. She went out into the street, wondering for the first time whether Mr Hammond found it frustrating that his eldest son had not inherited his talent as a merchant. She knew that Hammond was immensely successful, for as well as the emporium in Northampton he had a string of other shops in the county, and it was clearly his life’s work. Barney, on the other hand, looked as though he would be much more at home in some other occupation.
She walked down the main street, past the bakery and the Angel inn. The sun was bright and Lavender had just decided to take her sketchbook out to do some drawing that afternoon, when there was a step behind her and a breathless voice called:
‘Miss Brabant!’
She turned to see Ellen Hammond panting up the road behind her, face flushed with exertion. Hammond’s daughter was about fifteen, and had inherited the dark looks that gave Barney his enigmatic air. Lavender thought that Ellen would probably be a beauty, but the girl showed no signs of being aware of it. She was smiling with unaffected pleasure.
‘Oh, Miss Brabant, please excuse me! Barney—my brother—told me that you had given the kittens a good home and I so wished to thank you!’
Lavender smiled at her. ‘I was happy to be of help, Miss Hammond! They are the most adorable creatures, are they not? You must come over to Hewly sometime and see how they progress!’
Ellen’s face flushed pink. ‘Oh! May I indeed? You are so kind, Miss Brabant!’ Her expression crumpled. ‘Father was going to drown them, you know! Of all the cruel things! But Barney is so kind and said that he would save them but that I was not to tell—’
‘That’s enough, Ellen. I am sure that Miss Brabant has other business to attend to in town!’
Neither of them
