‘A maid then?’
‘Not that either. I’m Princess Sofia’s companion. There are four small valises. I can manage two.’
He wiped his hands and put down his cloth.
He said, ‘How long you here for?’
‘Until the Queen comes. Then we go on to Weymouth.’ He carried all four bags as though they were nothing.
He said, ‘King were here, last back end. I seen him in the flesh. Major Garth were only just back from campaigning, gave me a start here. I were a groom at Owermoigne before that but the old gentleman passed away so I were out of a place.’
I said, ‘Who’s Miss Garth?’
‘Master’s sister’s lass,’ he said. ‘Is she expected?’
‘Couldn’t say,’ he said. ‘I heard she might come. I just thought, when I seen you, I thought you might be family.’
Ilsington House was a proper country house, plain but comfortable. It had mullioned windows and worn flagstone floors and there was a green parrot who sat on a perch in the stairhall and called out ‘Land o’Goshen!’ and ‘Bumpers all round!’ and then chuckled in a deep, dark voice.
We stayed two nights at Piddletown, with Sofy so desperate to see the sea that she had no interest in anything else and, much as I liked the house and its park, I had my own reasons for wishing us gone. Wherever we walked the stable-hand, Heppenstall, happened to appear and give me a lazy smile.
Sofy said, ‘I believe you have an admirer.’
I said, ‘Then he must be blind or feeble-minded, or both.’
‘Nellie,’ she said, ‘don’t say that. I’m sure your figure is finer than any of ours. And your follower is very manly, don’t you think?’
I said, ‘I’m not looking for a follower. I know better than to set myself up for disappointment.’
‘But why should you be disappointed? He’s the one showing an interest. You might encourage him a little. Just think, all we need is for Old Garth to give him a testimonial, then he can be employed at the King’s mews and you can marry him. It would be very convenient. I’d be able to see you almost every day.’
I said, ‘I see a flaw in your plan. You’ll be far away, married to some Hessian Grand Duke and having babies every year and I’ll be stranded in St James’s with Enoch Heppenstall and the smell of horses. Also, I think he may be a half-wit.’
‘Aha!’ she countered. ‘But I see you’ve taken the trouble to discover his name.’
8
On our second morning, just before noon, relief arrived in a great rumbling swirl of dust, a cavalcade of carts and carriages and spare horses, maids, valets, dressers, ladies, Royal Highnesses, and finally both Majesties accompanied by Old Garth himself. Amelia let out a little scream when she saw the Major and hid behind Minny.
‘Min!’ she whispered. ‘It’s a hobgoblin.’
Tom Garth was a short, elfin man. His ears seemed slightly too big for his head, his head seemed too big for his body and the right side of his face was stained with a port-wine mark from his hairline to his chin, practically a mirror image of mine. Then I understood why Enoch Heppenstall had taken me for a relative. There are those who believe marks such as mine lurk in a family’s blood, like ginger hair or an unfortunate nose, and are liable to break out unpredictably, to curse another generation.
The King and Queen took their dinner alone in the small parlour. The rest of us were seated in the dining hall, and Old Garth looked in on us to ask if there was anything we lacked.
Royal said, ‘Won’t you sit with us, Major? You must be hungry after your long drive.’
He thanked her and sat, though it must have been the last thing in the world he wished to do, a bachelor soldier thrown into a hen house. All he took was a glass of small ale, but there was an ease in his manner I liked immediately. Perhaps soldiers acquire it when they mess together. He was a good judge of subjects likely to appeal to young women: dance partners, for one thing. The Dorset militia were camped outside Weymouth so there would be no shortage of officers at the Assembly Rooms. Then, did we enjoy ghost stories? Had we heard about the phantom legion that marches along the old Roman road west of Dorchester? Or Athelhampton Hall where headless men had been seen walking through walls and gathered around the dining table? This so won over Amelia that she grew quite bold.
She said, ‘Nellie, isn’t it the oddest thing that you and Major Garth have the same mark on your face?’
Sofy was closest to her and dug her in the ribs but an eight-year-old isn’t easily silenced.
‘I wonder how such things come about?’ she said. ‘And there is no call for you to poke me so slyly, Sofy. I’m only developing a laudable spirit of enquiry, aren’t I, Gouly?’
Miss Gouly paid close attention to a slice of ham.
I said, ‘I’ve heard many theories about how I got my mark. Our cook blames herself, for feeding my mother too many roasted beets when she was carrying me. My mother’s sure I’d have been born unblemished if she hadn’t chanced to walk along Greek Street in her last month and see a boy with blood dripping down his face. But I subscribe to a more rational explanation. The moon was waning gibbous, the wind was from the south and a pink-eyed cat was seen on our doorstep the very day before I was born.’
I saw Garth bite the inside of his lip. I was playing to him, wanting to amuse him, though at the time I didn’t fully understand why, and I’d succeeded.
Amelia said, ‘You see, Sofy? Nellie doesn’t at all mind discussing it and I’m sure the Major doesn’t either.’
‘Not at all,’ he said. ‘Though I confess I haven’t looked into the science of it as thoroughly as Nellie has.’
A smile made all the difference to his face.
When dinner was finished the augmented royal procession formed up to drive the final ten miles to Weymouth and as the road dropped steeply from the ridgeway we saw, if not the sea itself, a haze that prefigured it. There were clusters of children along the turnpike throwing flowers and at the toll gate the mayor and aldermen met us, to lead us into the town. The crowds grew bigger, some people leaned out of their windows to cry ‘God save the King’, and as we swung towards the sea front the guns of the Nothe garrison fired a salute of twenty-one rounds. It was very exciting and quite different from the Prince of Wales’s unremarked comings and goings at Brighton.
Gloucester Lodge was hardly adequate for our party. There were so few rooms that some of the servants had to lodge in other houses along the esplanade and Sofy, Minny, Amelia and myself were squashed into an attic barely big enough for two. There was also the disadvantage of living at close quarters to the Queen. I had little choice but to apply her beastly ceruse every day. I must have looked such an oddity, promenading in the sun with a painted face.
Weymouth was a much gentler shore than Brighton. The sands were soft and level and afforded us long, open spaces for our daily walks. We became creatures of routine, up at six, because the King’s doctors had ordained that dipping, if it were to be beneficial, must be done as early in the day as possible. We all sea-bathed, except for the Queen who found the idea too alarming—she preferred to go to the Esplanade Hot Baths and pay three shillings to be boiled into good health—and also Royal, who refused to have anything to do with sea water, hot, cold or served in a cup. Royal wasn’t in the mood for anything: another year gone and still no husband.
After breakfast, if there was no excursion planned, we’d begin our rounds of Harvey’s Library and Mr Love’s Reading Room to inspect the registers and see who was newly arrived in town. Except for Sundays, the King rode out every morning and, if the weather permitted it, in the afternoon he liked to go to sea. Sometimes we accompanied him, rowed about by Elizabeth’s handsome, untouchable oarsmen, and once we visited a frigate, the Southampton, that was standing off the harbour. We were hoisted to the entry port one by one with nothing but the creaking cradle between us and the dark green water. The Royal Highnesses at least were in no danger of drowning. If they’d fallen into the sea I’m sure their silly skirts would have billowed up and kept them afloat.
It was a great adventure. We were showed everything, from the ship’s wheel to the chicken coop, which the King looked into very closely and was pleased to receive a new-laid egg. Amelia was allowed to turn the sand glass before the ringing of six bells and then we went down to the captain’s cabin and were given glasses of cordial. There was a deal of mad whispering and blushing in our attic that night. Minny admired the blue of a particular lieutenant’s coat. Sofy preferred a marine in his scarlet. Elizabeth said if she had a beau she wouldn’t care what colour he wore for she’d soon have him out of his shirt and Amelia, who was supposed to be asleep, asked why.
Minny said, ‘What about you, Nellie? Surely someone caught your eye?’
