NEWENHAM COURT
Newenham was a real eighteenth-century village, chiefly composed of red brick flat-faced houses,—some shyly withdrawn from the road, behind prim little gardens, others standing boldly upon the street. There was a dumpy, contented-looking old church, an ivy-clad parsonage, and an ancient inn, formerly a noted posting-house; now resuscitated, after nearly a century of neglect, as a halting-place and garage. The Court was situated in a land of heavy trees, green slopes and great peace; its back entrance opened directly into the village, but from an opposite direction a long and imposing avenue, with gates guarded by a pair of fierce stone wolves, wound up to the hall door.
The Court was a mixture of the Georgian and Victorian period, without any claim to architectural beauty; but it had the dignity of mellow age, and solid prosperity. The entrance faced north, and looked upon wide grass slopes, crowned by heavy plantations. In the interior was a vast hall, popular as a lounge and general sitting-room. Here people sat, read, had tea, played Bridge and had liberty to smoke. A spacious drawing-room, library, dining and billiard-rooms opened to right and left.
Almost every window in the Court commanded a view, and most of the sitting-rooms had French windows opening to the ground. Upstairs the passages were narrow, and rambling, with very low ceilings, and unexpected steps,—but the adjoining bedrooms dwelt long in the affectionate memory of many guests. These were furnished to suit the period, with large four-posters, and small looking-glasses, but were supplied with modern mattresses, comfortable armchairs, and the latest thing in Jacobean chintz! Here were writing-tables, well supplied,—including stamps,—fresh flowers, the newest books, and in season, the most cheerful fires.
Mrs. De Wolfe escorted her young friend all over the premises; she saw not only the kitchen, the still-room, the Justice's room, but the two apartments once occupied by the old lady's sons,—and now closed. Their mother displayed their books, and toys, of childhood,—as well as the trophies, and treasures of later years. The south side of the Court, overlooked a well-timbered park, and winding river; immediately in front, lay smooth green lawns, bounded right and left, by long herbaceous borders, and rose-covered pergolas. Somehow this unusual display gave the impression that an army corps of flowers, had escaped from the grim walled garden,—which lay half concealed beyond the shrubberies—and encamped in the grounds; immediately below the lawns were tennis courts; these were pointed out to Nancy by her hostess, as one of the chief features of the place.
"It is not for its gardens,—which as you see, are quite unique,—having boldly come out of bounds, and run into the park,—nor yet, for some very remarkable old furniture, nor even for its good dinners, that the Court is celebrated," said its mistress. "It is famed, for having the best tennis courts on this side of the county! My two boys were wonderful players,—Hughie was a champion, and in their day, the great tennis week took place here. There was always an immense gathering, we provided lunch and refreshments in big tents,—and the house was packed to the garret! When I am at home, I still endeavour to keep up Newenham Tennis week. I needn't tell you, that I never played tennis myself,—my game was croquet, in the good old days when croquet hoops were a generous size; but I still like to keep the tennis going,—indeed I don't suppose my neighbours would allow me to drop it; they consider it hard case, that it is not an annual fixture; but when I am here, I do my best to hold the meeting in all its glory. It is true, that, as it has been hinted to me, 'I now do very little for the county in the way of entertaining,' so I feel bound to put my best foot forward, once in a way. I fill the house with tennis-playing neighbours, I invite the residents for miles, I engage a band that I board in the village,—two extra cooks, tents, waiters, and supply all the delicacies of the season, and I offer, last not least, prizes that are worth while. There is tennis, more or less all day, the young people dance in the racquet court at night, others play Bridge, or billiards; oh, what a week it is! You will see, that I shall not be at home, more than a few days,—before letters come pouring in, to inquire the date of the Newenham Tennis Tournament?"
"It must be an immense undertaking for you," said Nancy, "but personally I think it will be great fun! I will help you, write out the invitations, and do the flowers, and any odd jobs you can find for me."
"Thank you, my dear, I'm sure you will be useful, but I generally get a man, to arrange dates, events, handicaps and so on, and more or less to run the show. I give him carte blanche; you shall be deputy hostess, and I will sit in my arm-chair,—and take all the credit! Four years ago, Derek Mayne was my helper,—I don't know who I shall have this time; perhaps Dudley Villars? he is not much of a tennis player, nor what I call practical, but he knows how to lay out money, and to make things go smoothly."
"And when do you think, you will have this tournament?"
"In about a fortnight,—or three weeks. First of all, I must go round, and look up my friends; and as soon as I have put the house in order, and reported myself to my people in the village, and had the Rectory people up to dinner, you and I will sally forth, and pay a round of calls."
Nancy had been given a delightful bedroom; it faced due south, her windows commanded the park, the shining river, a far-away distant blur of hills, immediately below lay the velvet lawns, and wide grassy walks, under rose-shaded pergolas. The whole place, seemed to be enveloped in an atmosphere of peace and good-will. "Only for one thing," she said to herself, "how very very happy I should be here!"
The afternoon when Nancy and her friend set forth in a new motor to pay a round of visits, the old lady said, "My first, must be to Richard Mayne; my old friend met with an accident a couple of months ago, and has been laid up ever since. I believe he is a shocking patient, impossible to keep indoors."
As they sped noiselessly along, she continued to talk about him. "He has been a widower for fifteen years,—his wife was always a delicate creature. She had a good deal of money,—which as they have no family, goes back to her relations. The Maynes,—the real name was Delamaine, but a Puritan ancestor chopped it up—the Maynes, have always been spendthrifts, and compelled to marry money! The property, has dwindled down to about a thousand acres, thanks to Mayne's ancestors' rage for gambling. It is said, that when they could find no other method, they used to race worms upon a deal table! The table is still exhibited at Maynesfort, and I have an idea, that the old gentleman is quite proud of it. If it were my property,—it would have been burnt long ago."
Maynesfort was ten miles from Newenham,—a distance soon covered by Mrs. De Wolfe's new "Rolls-Royce." As they turned into the gates, she said to Nancy, "You see it is a fine old place, and well kept up. It's a sort of estate, which having a great deal of wood, and vast gardens, and no fat farms, more or less eats its head off! Derek Mayne is bound to marry money, and I must say this,—that whoever he does marry, will be a lucky girl!"
Old Mr. Mayne, supported by a nurse, received the two ladies in the library: he was able to rise and hobble towards them, leaning upon a stick,—and offered his friend a most affectionate welcome.
"Well Elizabeth!" he said, "I'm delighted to see you, it's a good sight for old eyes," shaking her by the hand. "This time, I hope, you have come home to stay."
"Oh, I make no rash promises," she answered with a laugh. "Now, Richard, please sit down—and don't do company manners for us. This is my young friend, Miss Travers," she added, presenting Nancy.
"Oh yes, Miss Travers,—I have heard of you before. Was it not to you, that my old friend Fletcher left his property?"
"Yes," she answered, "a most unexpected legacy."
"Your father was his manager, I understand?"
"He was, but Fairplains originally belonged to him."
"Oh!" exclaimed the old gentleman with a look of blank surprise.
"And I'm afraid, he lost it through me."
"My dear young lady, surely you are not serious!"
"Yes, as I was delicate, I had to be sent to England, when I was a small child, and he was constantly coming over to see me, leaving a manager to look after the estate, the manager robbed him, and ran away with the money, leaving no end of debts, and difficulties for father."
"Well, I am glad it has gone back to you," said Mr. Mayne politely. "By the way, you knew my nephew Derek, I believe he stayed at Fairplains?"
"Yes,—for a short time."
"A nice fellow, isn't he, and a capital shot?"
Nancy hesitated for a moment, and then replied: "I—suppose he is."
"Ah! I see he is not your sort.—He never was much of a ladies' man, was he?" looking over at Mrs. De Wolfe, who had been conferring with the old gentleman's nurse. "I expect, we shall have him down in a week or two for the cricket and tennis."
Old Mr. Mayne then proceeded to talk about himself,—he gave full particulars of his accident, how the horse, had slipped up and rolled upon him, and then galloped home: the terrible consternation there had been when Rufus had appeared in the stable yard—without his master; next he discussed his doctor, the London specialist, and finally dropped into the local gossip.
During the latter part of this séance, Nancy had been sent out in charge of the nurse, to see the picture gallery and the gardens, and she received an impression of age, refinement, and large outlay. Certainly Maynesfort was a beautiful old place, and she did not wonder that its present owner was so pathetically anxious, that it should remain in the family,—and never endure the degradation of being let!
This visit to old Mr. Mayne proved to be the first of a long series. The Hillsides were at home, also the Millers, in fact most of Mrs. De Wolfe's friends, had shifted their quarters from London or Cowes, into the nice cool green country. No, not cool, for the weather in August proved to be unusually warm, the grass was burnt to a yellow brown; Mrs. De Wolfe's gardeners were kept incessantly occupied with hose, and water can: at times, there was scarcely a breath of air, and the great trees stood solid in the heat haze. After sundown, Nancy would run out to the garden, and gather fruit for dessert—apricots in mellow perfection, off the hot brick wall; she would also go round, and inspect the village cattle trough, and see that their own dogs, had water in their bowls, and cheer up Bob, a gasping brown spaniel.
In a month's time, she had contrived to make herself thoroughly at home amid her new surroundings, had been presented to the village, and parsonage, and made friends with most of the old women, and children in Newenham, also with the village dogs,—and indeed the post-office dog, a mongrel, like Togo, exhibited an ardent desire to attach himself to the "new young lady," as she was generally called. As August advanced, Mr. Mayne, attended by nurse, and valet, was convalescing at the seaside, his nephew was shooting in Scotland, but the remainder of the neighbours were at home, making the most of the very shining hours, at picnics, cricket matches, and little impromptu dances. The Hillsides were particularly gay, and entertained a large house party.
Although a certain amount of state was maintained, such as big stepping horses, and powdered men-servants, the ménage at the castle, was never taken very seriously; her ladyship was frequently in trouble with servants; household matters rarely ran smoothly, meals were unpunctual and indifferent,—it was a young people's house; and the friends of Josie and Tony, as long as they could have freedom, and dancing, and smoking and jokes, were not super-critical.
It was whispered that Lady Hillside was so intensely engrossed in works of philanthropy, that she sometimes forgot she had invited guests, and when they were ushered in by a bewildered butler, she would blandly inquire "where they were staying?" or she would order a dinner for twenty-four, and find that she had a party of eight, and when the party were seated, what frightful gaps at the table!
What was even more serious, she would invite two dozen of her confiding neighbours, and order the cook-housekeeper to provide for six. Then what awful waits ensued, whilst the distracted staff in the kitchen, scrambled together an impromptu meal, and the men-servants elongated the dinner table. Such an erratic mistress, drove her retinue almost crazy. Good and efficient servants took their departure, with the result, that elderly guests who visited the castle,—rarely repeated the experiment.
The last week of August, was fixed upon for the tennis tournament, and for a long time previously, Mrs. De Wolfe and Nancy had been engaged in making preparations. There would be a number of guests staying in the house. Talking over the list, Mrs. De Wolfe announced:
"I shall get Dudley to do master of the ceremonies, and ask Roger De Wolfe,—he is my heir, such a dear good stupid fellow,—to help to manage the scoring, handicapping, and judging.
"There will be Tony and Josie, two Miller girls, Major Horne and his mother, young Wynne of the Blues, Cobden Gray, our great tennis player, Miss Strong the lady champion, old Sir Hubert Hamilton, to sit about and walk with me, and of course Derek Mayne,—he must be back from Scotland by this time."
"But why do you ask him to stay in the house?" inquired Nancy.
"Because it will save his going backwards and forwards to Maynesfort twice a day. The old man is very stingy of petrol; everyone has their pet economy: his is petrol,—and mine is string. I'm fond of Derek,—though he has given me the cold shoulder,—still I intend to have him here. Of course, I know you do not like him, but as a Roland for my Oliver, I shall invite one of your friends,—what do you say to Mrs. Hicks?"
"Mrs. Hicks?"
"Yes! why not? I fancy she is at a loose end just now. She told me she had never stayed much in the country,—at least it will be a novelty."
"And so will she! It is very good of you to think of her, and I'm sure she would love to come; the neighbours may think her a bit odd, and loud,—and I shall take it upon myself to tone down some of her costumes; but she has the best heart in the world: I shall never forget her kindness to me,—when my father was dying; and in one way, she will find herself in her element here, she is a wonderfully strong tennis player."
"You don't mean to tell me, that she plays?"
"I should rather think she did!—and I venture to say, will carry off one of your beautiful and valuable trophies. Where shall we put her?"
"In the blue bedroom next to you, so that you can talk old times to your hearts' content. Shall I write, or will you?"
"Oh, I think the invitation should go from the lady of the house."
"Very well, my dear, I will ask her to come a couple of days before the crowd, and I'll send off a note by this very post."
A letter from Mrs. Hicks, Newenham Court, Moonshire, to B. Hicks, Esq., M.D., Panora, near Khotagheri, Nilgiris, India:
My dear Hubby,
Won't you open your eyes to see where I am? I arrived a week ago, to stay with Nancy's friend, Mrs. De Wolfe, and am now living among the very highest company, and on the fat of the land! This is a lovely old place, something like what you read of in novels—with a great park, and lots of stiff-looking servants, and palms in the sitting rooms, and wonderful table silver. Here up in my room, every time I come into it, I find a fresh can of hot water standing in the basin—but I believe there are six housemaids—and such scented soap, and bath salts, and a big four-post bed, as soft as whipped cream. A great tennis tournament is being held all this week; so far I have done pretty well, in the 'ladies' doubles,' and this house is as full as if it were a fashionable hotel. Most of the people are strangers to me, except as tennis and Bridge partners, Finchie's niece and nephew are here, the Hon. Mrs. Speyde,—a black-eyed, flighty-looking widow,—and the Honourable Tony Lamerton, her brother: not a bad sort, and a good tennis player, but with a laugh to split your head! There is Major Horne, I came home with him on board ship last time but one,—terribly sea-sick he was too! and of all people in the world, who do you think, but Captain Mayne! His uncle lives in these parts.
Isn't it strange that he and Nancy should be staying in the same house, and talking politely to one another, as if they were bare acquaintances that had only lately met, for the first time? I suppose they have to pretend, as they are keeping their past very dark; and I believe they are both as obstinate as a pair of commissariat mules. I noticed that he sat next her at dinner last night, and they scarcely spoke, and they have played in the same sets at tennis. I also notice that he plays as a 'bachelor' against the married men. All the time, I'm the only one here, or in England, who happens to know, that he and Nancy are married; and when he addresses her as 'Miss Travers,' it's all I can do to hold my tongue. At tennis, I think they sometimes forget their feud, for I have heard him shout, 'Yours, Nancy,' and I have seen the two of them laughing together,—but elsewhere, as far as their manners to one another are concerned, they might have come out of a refrigerator!
I must say, it's an awful pity that such a handsome young couple cannot make it up. I think Nancy should come forward,—being the one in the wrong. She is a real darling, and such a beauty that you'd never know her, and so nice and affectionate to a dowdy old girl like me. I wish she and Mayne would make it up. I'd try my hand, only you say I always make a botch of such affairs, blurt out secrets, and give the show away. Well, well! perhaps something may happen to put things right.
Old Mrs. De Wolfe is wrapped up in Nancy, she might be her own granddaughter; the girl goes about the place, as if she had lived here for years; she is well liked too,—indeed too much liked by some! There's a dark foreign fellow, who is always trying to be her shadow, and who dances with her of an evening, but as far as I can see, I don't think Mayne minds—he has his own fish to fry!
By the time this is in your hands, Jess and Teddy will have arrived, and given you my news, and your new socks, and jerseys. I'm sending you some postcards of this place; but they give a very poor idea of its style. Many a time, I shall dream of it, I know, when I am back with you in old Panora. You and I fancy our roses; well, you should see those here; the Pergolas just smothered in them, and the rosery a sight for angels; as for the apricots on the south wall, my mouth waters, when I think of them!
Mrs. De Wolfe herself, in spite of all her engagements, has been mighty kind and friendly to me, and made me feel quite at home. When you look at the postcard of this place, and think of me, you will laugh at the idea. I play Bridge with her; my word! she is first class. Sees mistakes—but never scolds—not like you! Once she took me round the big garden all by myself. At the time, I felt it a tremendous honour, but on second thoughts, I believe she wanted to get something out of me about Nancy. She did her big best to pump me about Mayne,—and the reason of their coolness, but for once I was on my guard, and left her just as wise as ever! I'm afraid I told one or two small lies, but that under the circumstances, couldn't be helped. I'd give fifty rupees, cash down, to see her face, when she hears the truth. I'll write from London by next mail.
Your affectionate wife,
Susan Hicks.