Читать книгу The Remnants - W. P. Osborn - Страница 6

The two young housemaids were not the only inhabitants of Meaford House traveling to town on that glorious spring morning. Lady Knowles departed an hour later for a routine visit to her seamstress. Apparently the three new gowns she had purchased in Paris last month had arrived and the few delicate alterations were ready for her inspection. Normally she would have expected Mrs. Holladay to provide these fittings in the cloister of her private dressing room but today would be an exception. Her Ladyship had previously committed to attend al pre-competition meeting of her West Kent Garden Society and a stop along the way to the seamstress shop would be entirely convenient. Lady Barbara Knowles was, of course, president of the society and her attendance alone made the business of the meeting proper and official. She was also a five-time champion of several premiere rose competitions, an established champion in the annual All Kent Flower Show and twice had been runner-up at the All England Flower Show at Covent Garden. This past June however Barbara Knowles had been struck a morbid humiliation when she was obliged to accept the a preposterous second place finish, here, in her own county to an upstart Mrs. Audrey Tibbs, wife of a Presbyterian minister from the tiny village of Collington Square. The grievance of not winning had been a monstrous embarrassment for the entire household but to place second to an unknown Presbyterian had proven nearly impossible for everyone to comprehend.

This year’s competition was scheduled in just three weeks time and her ladyship remained entirely focused on her singular great ambition, to once again carry home the champion’s silver chalice and to replace it to its vacant sanctuary, next to the custom crafted Royal Dalton figurines on the second shelf of the large mahogany bookcase in the music room. Every early witness who had previewed her new entry, the “Barton-Knowles Pink” had proclaimed her to be the certain winner this year. She would easily surpass either another resolute creation from Mrs. Tibbs or an entry from the intrepid wife of General Sir Thomas Hughes, another contender with nearly as much influence as her own.

Her Ladyship was comfortable that she had finally remedied the fatal flaw from last year’s most forgettable entry, “a little too much Knowles and not enough Barton,” was the accepted diagnosis. This June she would be again fully restored to her rightful status, the “annus horriblus” purged forever and the honour of Meaford House rightfully restored. To that end, she had personally notified Mr. Laramie, the household’s senior gardener that his future employment now hung in the balance.

As a confirmed member of the British aristocracy, Lady Knowles traveled in a traditional and elegant manner. She had long since claimed the family’s prized regal coach and livery as her own. The carriage itself had been manufactured by hand at the Royal Royce Carriage Works in Lambeth, the same enterprise that held the exclusive commission and endorsement for the regal liveries of His Majesty. That appointment naturally proclaimed the “Royal” stipulation that was proclaimed proudly by the company throughout the world. Of course not every vehicle at Meaford House was built by the regal works, but this particular coach was Lady Barbara’s favourite because it was the only exact replica in existence of Queen Mary’s personal private carriage in London.

Drawn by a pair of prized Lancashire Chestnuts, the carriage itself was an immaculate showpiece. The leather seats were hand stitched and stuffed with worsted deerskin and the mahogany inlay around the perimeter of the passenger compartment was perfect in every detail. Lord Knowles had personally acquired the prize geldings at the Cambridge Winter Sale three years ago by outbidding his rivals in a long exchange that had cost him a “sultan’s fortune”. It was a premium he quietly embraced, having verified that their bloodlines ran back three hundred years directly to the livery stock of Hampton Hall, the country estates of Sir Walter Raleigh. For a man for whom lineage was everything the investment in such a prestigious brace was entirely appropriate. His Lordship personally maintained strict direction over their care and handling, these were show horses and vital public confirmation of his family prestige. They were pampered in the barn, and in harness they always trotted and rarely cantered. The proof of their heritage was in their stamina, they could amble heroically at a steady gait for more than an hour.

At Her Ladyship’s insistence only a liveryman dressed in regal appointment drove the coach. Having captured the specifics of the Queen’s personal entourage there would be no detail left incomplete. Smith, her personal chauffeur was a recent addition to the household staff filling the post left vacant by the sudden passing of Woodford, her personal long time favourite on whose complete discretion she could always rely. Smith’s uniform matched the royal household in every detail, including vest, boots and tails with the deliberate exception that the colours of the band on his black top hat were the Knowles family burgundy and gray - not regal red, a minor understatement appreciated by all that mattered.

Woodford had arrived with Barbara to Meaford Hall, a wedding gift of a sort from her own beloved father, who wanted to privately ensure that his only precious daughter would maintain some degree of his personal protection. Woodford’s absolute loyalty t0 the Barton family reached back through two generations to his own grandfather, a personal valet Sir Michael’s own father. Wilfred had become a trusted uncle to Lady Barbara and his untimely death left her abandoned to her husband’s loyal cadre of informants. This would be only the third occasion that had permitted Smith to chauffeur for her personal affairs. His competence behind the traces was obvious but it would be some time before she would dare attempt any test of a private trust. For now her private dalliances would remain in quiet abeyance.

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