The Earl Escapes

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She would often wander through the shrubbery and down to the lake to feed the swans and the wild ducks.

They did not seem as frightened of her as they were of everyone else.

She then reached the Chaplain’s House, which was an enchanting example of Tudor architecture.

She next found her father sitting in the low-ceilinged study with some papers in front of him.

“Are you busy, Papa?” she asked.

“Never too busy for you, my dearest,” he answered.

He glanced at the books she held under her arms and said,

“I need not ask where you have been.”

“I have borrowed something to read, Papa, because I know that you are going to forbid me to go to the Big House until the Earl has left.”

“You have anticipated my thoughts,” the Vicar smiled. “We must not impose ourselves on the new Earl, but should leave him to find his own way about, which I am sure that he will do very competently.”

“How can you be so sure of that?” Valencia asked just for the pleasure of arguing.

“With his brilliant command of troops the Earl has made a name for himself in the Army and has been decorated for gallantry,” the Vicar replied.

He saw that his daughter was listening to him and then he went on,

“He cannot therefore be incompetent when it comes to running an estate and I do not think that he will find anything very much wrong with The Priory.”

He paused for a moment and then continued,

“After all the people who have served the Dolphinstons for many many years think of it as their own and give themselves wholeheartedly to its welfare.”

“I hope that is what you will tell the new Earl, Papa,” Valencia suggested.

“I hear that he is bringing a party down with him,” the Vicar said, as if he was following his own thoughts.

“Who told you that?” Valencia enquired.

“Mr. Rawlins. He came to see me after you had left. He told me that he had received a letter from his Lordship saying that he would bring a party of his friends down from London with him and he hoped that everything would be organised in a very satisfactory manner.”

“Of course it will be,” Valencia replied indignantly. “No one cooks as well as Mrs. Brooke even though she is nearly seventy.”

“I know that, my dearest,” the Vicar said quietly, “but you can understand the Earl, who has never been here in his life, being apprehensive in case his friends are uncomfortable or the food is inedible.”

Valencia laughed, but she thought that the Earl had much to learn about his own possessions and she only hoped that he would not make trouble while he was doing so.

In the quiet of the Chaplain’s House she had no idea as the evening passed what was going on at The Priory.

*

She was sure, however, it would not be long before someone came to tell her every detail of what was taking place.

When she came down to breakfast and was pouring out a second cup of coffee for her father, Nanny, who had been with them for years, came to relate that Mrs. Brooke was in the kitchen and would like a word with the Vicar.

Valencia looked at her father.

“What do you think has happened?” she asked.

“That is what we are about to be told,” he replied and then added, “ask Mrs. Brooke to come in here, Nanny, I expect you have already given her a cup of tea?”

“Of course I have, sir. And she needed it!” Nanny replied haughtily.

Now Valencia looked across the table apprehensively at her father.

“Mrs. Brooke is easily upset,” he commented.

There was no time to say anything more as at that moment the door opened and Nanny announced,

“Mrs. Brooke, sir.”

The old cook came into the room. She was a large woman with greying hair and cheeks like rosy apples.

When she laughed, it seemed to shake her whole body like blancmange.

Valencia had loved her ever since she was a little child when she had made her gingerbread men for her parties.

She also always kept brandy snaps in a special tin in the kitchen for when she visited her.

Now, as she dropped a small curtsey to the Vicar, she began,

“It’s kind of you to see me so early, sir, but I ’ad to come to you!”

“Yes, of course,” the Vicar said. “Sit down, Mrs. Brooke, and tell me what is troubling you.”

“Trouble be the right word, sir! I don’t know what ’is late Lordship, God rest his soul, would say if ’e knew what was a-goin’ on.”

Valencia’s eyes widened in surprise, but she did not say a word and then Mrs. Brooke went on,

“What I’ve come to ask you, sir, is if you think I should engage Mary Duncan or Gladys Bell to ’elp in the kitchen. I’ve got to ’ave someone, that is for sure, I can’t go on as it was last night for it’s more than flesh and blood can stand!”

“Suppose you tell me from the beginning what has gone wrong?” the Vicar suggested quietly.

“It be ’is Lordship’s guests. sir. I’ve never ever ’eard nothin’ like it! From the minute they comes into the ’ouse they were a-wantin’ somethin’. First it was tea for the ladies and wine for the gentlemen. Then it was milk for one lady, not for her to drink but for to wash her face with, if you can credit it!”

She shook her head before continuing,

“After that they was orderin’ tsanes afore they went to bed and all this while I was tryin’ to get dinner ready for eight, when we only expected four and that meant there wasn’t enough trout to go round.”

Mrs. Brooke paused for breath, but she was still shaking from indignation.

Valencia knew at once how much it had all upset her.

“I am afraid, Mrs. Brooke,” the Vicar said quietly, “we live in the country and are not used to London ways. I would expect all the things you mentioned are what fashionable ladies require nowadays as a matter of course.”

“Well, all I can say is this, I wants one if not two more girls in the kitchen and believe it or not, this mornin’ the ladies is all lyin’ in bed and I’ve ’ad to send their breakfasts up to them!”

Mrs. Brooke spoke as if it was something so scandalous that she could hardly talk about it and so it was with great difficulty that Valencia prevented herself from laughing.

She knew it was usual for everybody, in even the most fashionable houses, to breakfast downstairs at about nine to nine-thirty. As did the Queen and the Princess of Wales.

Only if someone was ill did they expect to have breakfast taken upstairs to them. However there were occasions in the past when some of the Earl’s more aged relatives had asked for breakfast upstairs.

This had caused quite a stir as they had not any breakfast sets that Burrows, the old butler, considered good enough to be used for the guests in question.

Only after complaints to the Earl were two sets purchased from London to sit on one side in a cupboard and there they remained until there was a further demand for them.

Because she could not contain her curiosity, Valencia now enquired,

“How many ladies breakfasted upstairs, Mrs. Brooke?”

“Three of them, miss,” she replied. “Three! And us with only two breakfast sets and Mr. Burrows in a tizzy tryin’ to arrange for a third tray, which never looked right ’owever ’ard he tried to make it.”

“I quite understand it being a surprise to you,” the Vicar said, “but I expect the ladies were tired after their journey and perhaps tomorrow things will be different.”

“I very much doubt it, sir,” Mrs. Brooke said. “Already I’ve been told one lady will require coffee durin’ the mornin’, another has a special concoction she’s brought with ’er as ’as to be ’eated up, and the third was asleep when she was called and hasn’t yet given ’er orders, but doubtless I shall get them!”

She drew in her breath and then carried on,

“I’m too old, Vicar, and that’s the truth, for this sort of commotion. I was a-thinkin’ of retirin’ afore ’is Lordship came ’ome and now it’s very much in me mind that it’s somethin’ I should do afore I’m run orf me feet and in me grave even before I’m aware of it.”

“Now, you know, Mrs. Brooke,” the Vicar said consolingly, “that The Priory could not do without you. I suggest, therefore, that while his Lordship is here that you engage Gladys Bell, who is a very nice girl and a willing worker.”

He stopped speaking to smile at her before he went on,

“It might be an idea to ask her mother, who is an excellent woman, to give you a hand temporarily. I feel sure that she would be only too willing to oblige.”

Mrs. Brooke then looked at the Vicar with an expression of satisfaction on her face.

“There now, sir. I never thought of that. I knowed if I came ’ere you would ’elp me and make it all right with ’is Lordship’s Manager, who’s always tellin’ us there’s too many on the payroll as it is. But I can’t manage with the two I ’as in the kitchen at the moment and that’s a fact.”

“I appreciate that, Mrs. Brooke,” the Vicar said. “Leave it to me. I will speak to Mr. Rawlins sometime today. I am sure that he will understand and knows like me that The Priory would never be the same if you left.”

“I only ’opes ’is Lordship feels the same as you do, sir,” Mrs. Brooke said.

She rose with a little difficulty, as she was very fat, and added,

“I’d better be gettin’ back now, but I’ll ask if a groom can take a message to Gladys Bell and her mother.”

“Yes, do,” the Vicar said. “I’ve known Gladys all her life since I christened her. She will do her very best, although it is always difficult for you to teach anyone when you have so much to do.”

“That’s the truth, every word of it,” Mrs. Brooke exclaimed. “Thank you, sir, thank you very much. I knowed you wouldn’t let me down.”

She went from the room and, as she closed the door behind her, Valencia gave a little laugh.

“Oh, Papa, can you not imagine the commotion? The ladies asking for tisanes, things Mrs. Brooke has never heard of and, of course, she is horrified!”

“If you ask me,” the Vicar said, “she is making it sound rather worse than it really is because she has had her eye on Gladys for some time now.”

He sighed before he went on,

“But Rawlins was firm that nobody now should be engaged at The Priory until he could talk over such matters with the Earl.”

“Well, anything would be better than losing Mrs. Brooke.”

“I agree with you,” the Vicar said, “and I am sure that Rawlins will feel the same. At the same time we must not forget that the new Master may have ideas of his own.”

“Then I only hope they are the same as ours,” Valencia said sighing.

But she felt very curious.

She knew that it would a great mistake for her to go up to The Priory.

Yet she could not resist walking through their own orchard to where there was some high ground at the end of it.

From there she could look over the garden surrounding the house and down to the lake.

Because the sunshine was turning the water to gold and there were still some late daffodils under the trees in the Park, it looked very beautiful.