“But was not the Comte already Grey's partner in a Continental concern?” my brother protested, bewildered. “Why should he have need of subterfuge?”
“Because the intended use of the funds, my dear, should ruin Mr. Grey were it suspected. He should be accused of treason, or worse; and until the funds are secured, he must never be allowed to suspect the gravity of his betrayal.”
My brother whistled. “You suspect that Grey is to bankroll Buonaparte's invasion of England?”
“I can think of nothing else that should require such delicacy of arrangement and preparation. Only consider, Neddie — Francoise Grey was forced into a loveless marriage, for the express purpose of winning her husband's resources. Let us hope that she eventually failed — and was murdered as a result.”
“And if she succeeded?” A fine beading of sweat stood out on my brother's brow. “What then, for Grey and the security of the Kingdom?”
“That is a question,” I said drily, “that I suspect you must put to Mr. Grey.”
MY BROTHER MIGHT HAVE MOUNTED HIS HORSE AT THAT very moment, and ridden off in the direction of The Larches, had he not been prevented by the appearance of the Gentleman Improver. As it was, he was forced to be content with a hastily-scrawled note, despatched by messenger to Valentine Grey, that required that gentleman's presence at dinner — or if the banker were otherwise engaged, for coffee afterwards.
It was hardly Mr. Sothey's fault that he thus interrupted our counsels at a most inauspicious moment. He had arrived in good time — at a quarter past one o'clock— and looked so delighted at the prospect of his visit, that I could hardly believe him capable of a conscious deceit. He was elegantly dressed, and as cool in his appearance as tho' the short ride had no power to discomfit him; praised everything from the plasterwork in the hall, to the arrangement of the rooms, and would stay within doors only long enough to pay his respects to Lizzy, before proposing that we should all walk out and survey the grounds.
To my surprise and delight, Mr. Emilious Finch-Hatton had ridden over from Eastwell in company with the improver.
“Miss Austen!” he cried, bending low over my hand, “it is a pleasure to see you again. I have had a letter from our mutual friend, that would not delay of its communication to you; and so I have imposed upon Sothey and yourselves, in presuming to invite myself to dinner.”
“You will always be welcome, sir, as I believe you know.” We were awaiting Lizzy's appearance on the stairs, in stout boots better suited to walking than the slippers she had sported all morning, before crossing the Stour. Mr. Sothey had judged the prospect from the Doric temple's height ideally suited to an initial survey of the grounds; and there we should commence our tour. “Lord Harold is well?”
“He is as well as any man may be, who has been denied a glimpse of his native shores for six months together. He found success in Austria, I understand — the Hapsburgs will stand with England and Russia — and is presently embarked for Amsterdam.”[56]
“Amsterdam?” I echoed. “As Mr. Pitt's personal envoy, perhaps?”
“I believe Lord Harold presently enjoys that honour.”
“Then he is charged with the thankless task of persuading a Scots banker to lend, where all confidence is lacking.” Unless, I thought, Trowbridge is too late — and Mr. Grey's funds have already rescued the French crown.
'You have been reading the Times, I see,” Mr. Emilious observed with a twinkle. “You may soon discover some interesting items in its columns, I believe — but I shall say no more, at present.”
We had been walking all this while to the end of the sweep; had passed the lodge, crossed the Canterbury road, and were fetched up at the little foot-bridge over the Stour.[57] The tedious uphill climb to achieve the temple next engrossed our attention, and Mr. Emilious — being better suited to the consumption of an elegant meal, than the scaling of more Picturesque heights — could hardly be expected to spare breath for my amusement.
“Capital!” Mr. Sothey cried, his face aglow. He stood under the temple's portico next to my brother, who was also flushed with the exercise. Lizzy had adopted a chair. “The house is nobly positioned between this rise of the downs and the hills against its back; and with the Stour bisecting the narrow valley, it is a most bucolic scene. That cottage away to the right, with the road winding up to it, is a dependent's?”
“It belongs to the gamekeeper,” Neddie said, “for the deer park runs up through the far downs; and that building behind die house, midway up die slope, is the ice house.”
“Your farmland is where?”
“To die south.”
“I see. Adjacent to the church?”
“Just so.”
“That avenue, I collect, is your usual path to Sunday service?”
“We have traversed it already twice today.”
Mr. Sothey shaded his eyes with one hand against the slanting light of the westering sun, and turned first north and then south, towards Chilham Castle. “It is remarkable, however, how little space was accorded the pleasure gardens, given the expanse of the park, and the commodious impression afforded by the rising ground. It is unfortunate that the river runs so close to the road, and the road so near to the gatekeeper's lodge. There is an impression of confinement, of claustration, at that end of the estate, that is most unfortunate. The garden paths running down to the limes only increase that sensation, if you will observe; for they are without exception unvaryingly straight, and must serve as boundaries rather than avenues of escape.”
Neddie's eyes narrowed, and his lips compressed.
“I rather wonder at the original builder's intent,” Mr. Sothey mused, “in placing the house at right angles to the river and the road.”
“Perhaps he found a southern exposure, and the prospect of the downs and the church, more pleasant than that of the highway,” Neddie said tartly.
“Perhaps — but as you see, it increases the crowding of the sweep and the lodge immeasurably. Those are kitchen gardens, I suppose?” Mr. Sothey gestured towards two enclosures at the north end of Bentigh.
“They are,” Neddie replied. “An estate cannot hope to function without them. They have served us amply for more years than you can claim, Mr. Sothey.” There was a faint note of belligerence in his tone, as tho' the improver's observations were felt as a personal attack.
“My dear sir,” Mr. Sothey said swiftly, “you must not take it amiss if I prod and prick your sensibilities here and there. It is always difficult to work against the force of habit; we are creatures of convention, as you very well know, and despise the merest hint of change. It is essential, however, to comprehend the daily employment of these grounds, and the manner in which the work of the estate might be improved, and made compatible with its visual delights. I shall demand to know a great deal from the kitchen maids — how often they use certain paths, where the villagers are wont to trespass, and whither the Austen ladies delight in roaming, in the pursuit of exercise. All this must be understood, before anything of improvement may be achieved.”
“And so the genius of our place is a kitchen maid?” I enquired, amused. “I tremble to think what might occur, if the nursemaid is not appeased!”
Mr. Sothey threw back his head and laughed. His remarkable auburn locks rippled in the sun; and I was struck at once by the vigour and openness of his looks— he might have been Gabriel, surveying the Lord's kingdom. “I should have said the genie of Godmersham was Demeter, Miss Austen — the drowsing hum of the birds among the grain speaks only of harvest to my ears; but we shall know better with time. Perhaps the resident spirit is one of water, and sings through the stones of the Stour; or perhaps it wanders among the lime trees, plaiting violets in its hair.”
“Then pray take care you do not destroy its natural haunt,” Neddie broke in.
56
Austria's alliance with England and Russia on August 9 concluded the building of what was termed the Third Coalition. It was thrown into conflict with Napoleonic France soon thereafter, at the Battle of Austerlitz, December 2, 1805. Bonaparte triumphed, and was ceded considerable German and Italian territory at the Treaty of Pressburg, which was concluded later that month. Austria's ties to England were then severed completely, and she was forced to pay forty million francs as indemnity to France. —
57
Present-day visitors to Godmersham will be slightly confused by this description. The Canterbury road Jane describes is now the A28, and was rerouted well after her death (in the 1830s) beyond the far bank of the Stour. The Doric temple now has the road to its back, rather than standing in contemplation of it, as in Jane's day. —