Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

B engrove Hall, Staffordshire, February 1813

"Mama would have enjoyed seeing this," Jo said, peering through the chaise window as it turned between the high pillars marking the entrance to the Bengroves' home. The house stood atop a rise to their right, the gravelled drive sweeping round to it in a graceful arc that skirted a lake. The marble columns and entablature that Alfred had described shone pale in the weak late afternoon sun. The proportions of the building were elegant, the rows of tall windows echoing the pillared entrance.

"It is an attractive building," Papa agreed. "But it will still be here in the summer, when it will be safer for your Mama to travel if she feels well enough. She does seem more cheerful since we learned that Captain Bengrove was not killed."

To Jo's dismay, Papa hadn't been enthused about this visit, saying it would give the Bengroves, and society, the idea that her betrothal to Alfred was a definite thing. "I'm not forbidding it, Jo," he said to her protest. "But I do want you to get to know the young man better before anything is finalised. However, it will please your mother if we go, and it might be seen as insulting for us to refuse the invitation." And Jo had to be content with that .

The chaise came to a stop, and a liveried and bewigged footman opened the door and handed them out. Jo felt nervous now; she wanted to make a good impression on Alfred's parents.

They ascended the steps to the front door, where a stately, grey-haired butler awaited them. Behind them, the second carriage with Papa's valet and Martha was being directed around the back of the house.

The butler bowed. "Mr Stretton, Miss Stretton, welcome to Bengrove Hall. Lord and Lady Bengrove await you in the parlour."

"Thank you," Papa said as he handed his hat to the butler and removed his coat. Jo pulled her bonnet strings, and the butler passed that and their coats to another waiting footman.

The hall through which the butler led them extended the full height of the house, with ancestral portraits arranged in two rows along its walls. The parlour he showed them into was painted in a deep burgundy, the floor gleamed with polish beneath the richly patterned carpet, and thick brocade curtains framed the windows. Ornate clocks, statues, and ornaments filled the mantelpiece and several marble-topped tables. It was all very opulent, but felt cluttered to Jo. Papa had bought their townhouse four years ago, and she had helped her mother to furnish it; she recognised that the ornaments here were all of the best quality, but there were just too many of them.

Jo regarded Lady Bengrove with interest while their hosts spoke to Papa. She was blonde, like her son, although her hair was beginning to show threads of white. Unlike her husband, she was still slim, and the cut of her gown, together with the delicate lace and jewelled ear drops, lent her an overall air of expensive elegance.

"I am so pleased to meet you, Miss Stretton," she said, as Jo made her curtsey. "Alfred wrote about you in glowing terms." She smiled, but her expression held no warmth.

"Thank you, my lady. I am happy to meet more of Alfred's family." Although any hopes of his mother being more approachable than his father were fast fading.

Lady Bengrove inclined her head regally. "I expect you will wish to refresh yourselves after your journey. The housekeeper will show you to your rooms. Just ask her if there is anything you need. We keep country hours here—we will dine in an hour."

"You described Captain Bengrove as charming, did you not?" Papa asked quietly as they followed the housekeeper up a wide staircase.

"He was."

"He does not seem to have inherited that from either of his parents."

She suppressed a bubble of laughter, but was reassured that Papa's opinion of them matched her own.

"Your room, Miss Stretton." The housekeeper curtseyed and led Papa further along the corridor. The room was more plainly decorated than the parlour, and more to her liking. Possibly because the Bengroves did not choose to spend money on rooms they themselves would not use, Jo thought cynically. Water and towels lay ready on a wash stand, and sounds from an open door indicated that Martha was already unpacking her trunk.

"Tea's on its way, miss," Martha said, emerging with Jo's best evening gown draped over one arm. "I'll just see about getting the creases pressed out of this, unless you need me for anything else."

"No. Thank you. Are they looking after you below stairs, Martha?"

The maid shrugged. "Well enough, I suppose. The maids' rooms are shabby here, not comfortable like at Yelden Court."

Jo crossed to the window when the maid left. After three days' travelling she was feeling the lack of exercise, but the sun was nearing the horizon and it was too late to venture into the gardens. She could scarcely wander around the house, so she drank the tea when it came, and settled into a chair by the fire with a book.

Catherine Bengrove and her husband were still in London, which was a pity—Jo would have felt more comfortable with her new friend here. Jo had called not long after Mrs Bengrove brought the news about Alfred, and several times since then. They had progressed rapidly to first-name terms. However, Jo was not as attracted to Mr Bengrove, who was almost as cold towards her as his parents were.

There were only the four of them at dinner. The dining room was enormous, but the staff must have taken most of the leaves out of the table, for it was only large enough to seat ten. There was little conversation while the food was being brought in and wine served.

"You had a comfortable journey, I trust?" Lord Bengrove finally asked, once the servants had brought in the food and wine. Jo thought he had already made the same enquiry in the parlour, but Papa answered in the affirmative without elaborating.

"Good, good. And Miss Stretton, you must be missing young Alfred, eh?"

"Of course." Particularly when she recalled how special she had felt when in his company. "But I keep myself busy," she added, when Lord Bengrove appeared to be expecting her to say something more.

"You help your mother supervise the household, I expect," Lady Bengrove said. "I am sorry she is unwell."

"Thank you. But our housekeeper needs little supervision. We follow the news from the Peninsula in the hope that the war may end soon. However, it seems that not a great deal is happening there at the moment, although we must be encouraged by Napoleon's disastrous incursion into Russia."

"Read the papers, do you?" Lord Bengrove asked, tapping his glass for the waiting footman to refill it. "Singular! But understandable, I suppose. You will want good news, as an end to the war will bring Alfred home sooner. But you won't need to bother with all that once you're wed."

"Yes, sir," Jo replied meekly. Papa gave her a suspicious look.

"My steward will show you round the park tomorrow, if you wish. See where you'll be living." He didn't wait for a reply, but turned to Papa. "We must talk about the marriage contract while you're here, Stretton. Get it all sorted out, eh?"

"I think we should await Captain Bengrove's return," Papa replied, as he had when Lord Bengrove first came to call.

"No need, no need," Lord Bengrove said. "He's a young man, doesn't know what's what yet."

Papa raised an eyebrow. "Nevertheless, I think the young man should be part of any discussion of his financial future," he said. " Unless you are telling me he is not competent to be part of such a discussion?"

"Eh? Oh, not at all, not at all; whatever made you think that?"

"Then he should have a say, should he not?"

Lord Bengrove was momentarily speechless, but then changed the subject to ask where Stretton hunted. That topic didn't get far when Papa replied that there were far more efficient methods of removing vermin from farmland, and Lady Bengrove stepped into the gap by asking Jo where she bought her gowns. To Jo's surprise, she seemed to approve of Mama's choice of modiste, but the conversation foundered again when Jo couldn't answer Lady Bengrove's questions about the latest fashions. She was relieved when Lady Bengrove finally rose to withdraw, and even more so when she announced that Jo must be tired after the journey and would wish to retire early.

Jo awoke the next morning to the sound of rain against the window—there would be no tour of the estate today. She could stay in bed, but Papa was an early riser and would be in the breakfast parlour at his usual time.

"How are you this morning, Jo?" Papa asked, when she had filled a plate and sat down beside him. Lord Bengrove had yet to appear, and the footman informed them, when questioned, that Lady Bengrove always took breakfast in her room.

"I slept well, thank you. My room is very comfortable."

"More than can be said for the company." Papa kept his voice quiet so the footman could not hear. "It's going to be a long week. Jo, Bengrove seems to think you will be living here if you marry Alfred. Is that what you want?"

"I… I don't know. It depends what Alfred does when he is released, I suppose."

"Hmm. All the more reason to leave discussion of the settlements, then. I cannot see you being happy living with his parents."

"They seem very… cold. They must still be worried about Alfred, though. In any case, I had hoped to live closer to you and Mama, so we could see each other often." Papa nodded, and they finished their breakfast in companionable silence. Papa asked to be shown to the li brary, where he soon found a book and settled by the fire to read. Jo wasn't in the mood for that, but did find a guidebook. If they could tour some of the places of interest in the area, the time might pass more quickly. It would be different, so much better, if Alfred could have been here.

Lady Bengrove came into the library an hour later. "Good morning, Mr Stretton, Miss Stretton. I trust you slept well." She ran her eyes over Jo's walking dress and gave a nod and a thin smile of approval. Jo suppressed irritation—she was well past the age of needing advice on appropriate dress.

"Good morning, Lady Bengrove." Papa bowed.

Lady Stretton acknowledged him with a brief nod, then turned to Jo. "I will show you around the house this morning, Miss Stretton. As soon as you are ready."

Over the next two hours, Jo heard all about the Bengrove ancestors in the portraits—and their importance—before moving on to the rooms that she had already seen, and several more, all as richly furnished. Then, although there was a whole wing they had not entered, they returned to Lady Bengrove's private parlour and she rang for tea. "That will be sufficient for today. When Alfred returns, we will have a suite of rooms prepared for you in the east wing. You will have your own parlour and sitting room, of course."

That was a relief—Jo didn't think she could be comfortable always being around Alfred's parents.

"The housekeeper will show you the servants' parts of the house tomorrow," Lady Bengrove went on without a pause. "You won't be in charge of any of that while you are here, of course, but you will learn the running of an establishment such as this for the day when Alfred will have an estate of his own. It is very different from the needs of a town house."

"Thank you, my lady." She already knew how to run a household, thanks to Mama's teaching—the principles were the same no matter how large the establishment. But she should do her best to be on good terms with Alfred's mother, so she made no comment.

A maid arrived with the tea, and Lady Bengrove watched without speaking as Jo made the tea and poured it. "You do seem to be prettily behaved, Miss Stretton; I will say that much for your parents. Once you have settled properly into your life here, I'm sure you will also be included in invitations to dine."

"So kind," Jo muttered, and took a sip of tea. Her wish to impress Alfred's parents was fast dwindling; she doubted anything she did or said would make them welcome her with any degree of affection.

"Do speak up, girl. Mumbling like that is so unbecoming. Alfred will be in great demand, I am sure, as a returning hero."

With Jo as a mere additional extra, no doubt.

"It is possible that some of my acquaintance may call while you are here, so you will need to learn how to behave in such company. What is the correct way of addressing the daughter of an earl?"

Now she was to be subjected to a test of manners?

"I address the one I know as ‘Mama'." Jo watched with satisfaction as Lady Bengrove's mouth fell open. "My maternal grandfather is the Earl of Kenton—did Alfred not tell you? Mama had all the usual training in forms of address, precedence, and decorum, and has instructed me likewise." She finished her tea and stood. "Excuse me, if you please. I feel the need to rest again. Thank you for the tour." She gave a curtsey—to exactly the correct depth—and left the parlour before Lady Bengrove could speak.

Once in her room, she took a few deep breaths and went to look out of the window. It had been unwise to answer Lady Bengrove as she had; it would not improve relations between them. Lady Bengrove probably thought she was being helpful, and had been no more condescending than most women of her status would have been. But it was disappointing to find that Alfred's parents apparently set so much more store by rank than he did. Beyond the glass, the skies were still grey, but it was no longer raining. She would walk off her annoyance.

The stroll around the gravelled paths in the garden did her good, and she re-entered the house with cheeks glowing from the sharp air. Papa emerged from the library as she began to mount the stairs .

"Jo, is something wrong? Lady Bengrove said you were feeling unwell."

Jo hesitated. If she upset her ladyship too much, she might try to prevent her marriage to Alfred. She should tell Papa what she had said. "I am well, Papa. Is anyone else in the library?"

"No." He allowed Jo to precede him into the room and closed the door. "I suspect there is a confession to be made."

Jo smiled—Papa knew her well. To her relief, he laughed when she repeated her words.

"Jo, I think the fact that Frances married a man in trade would be more acceptable to Lady Bengrove if Frances did not outrank her by birth. Lady Bengrove's father was a mere baron."

"Papa, do we need to stay the full week?" She told him about the promised instruction from the housekeeper. Papa's brows rose as she spoke, and he glanced at the clearing skies outside.

"If this weather holds, we should be able to tour the whole estate tomorrow with the steward, not just the park, so the housekeeper's tour can be put off until the following day. And while you are being instructed, why don't you concentrate on working out all the ways in which Lady Bengrove could run the establishment more efficiently?"

Jo met Papa's eyes and smiled—trust Papa to make her feel better.

"I have a feeling that by the end of that day I will have received a message summoning me back to Town, urgently."

"Oh, thank you, Papa! It would be different if Alfred were with us, of course. If we are invited again, can we at least be sure that Catherine Bengrove will be here?"

"I will do my best. Now, Jo, will you still be unwell when it is time for dinner, do you think?"

Jo looked at Papa's carefully innocent face and sighed. "Unfortunately, I think I will be quite recovered by then. It would not be fair to leave you to face our hosts alone."

"That's my girl." Papa patted her shoulder and returned to his book. Jo went to change her gown—if Papa could manage it, she need sit through only three more dinners with Lady Bengrove. Perhaps, if she and Alfred were to wed, they could buy somewhere to live without having to stay at Bengrove Hall too long.