1930
Maisie Lett’s own column:
Dear Readers,
After last month’s hectic schedule, I thought yours truly could put her trotters up for
awhile – famous last thoughts! Went into office the other day only to find a note from
the editor on my desk:
‘Dear Lett,
Next month’s Country Life ‘At Home’ page is looking a little bare – however, all is
not lost as a friend of a friend of a friend has kindly offered to show us around their
delightful country residence – so can you get yourself and camera down there by
Friday? Train ticket enclosed. The name is Marchant; address is attached on card etc
etc’
What a rush! But deadlines and delayed trains nowithstanding, I reached the house in
question on Friday midday in time for lunch, after which Miss Lydia Marchant began
the tour …
Lydia Maydew: And here we have the dining room – the painting over the fireplace
is a Landseer, and the man in the red coat over the sideboard is purported to be by
a student of Gainsborough’s; rather a cheery soul, isn’t he ? We tend not to use this
room overmuch unless there are guests staying – we have quite a crowd here at the
moment – Bertie’s theatre chum Freddy brought his troupe with him …
Maisie Lett: Oh – the men in the ruffs and stockings ? I must say, I thought they were
awfully good – quite authentic.
Lydia M (raising an eyebrow): I didn’t know they were already in costume – but the
dress rehearsal is coming up, so it’s perfectly possible; oh well, that will add a little
colour to the place. Now, this part of the house was actually completed in the late
1700s, which is why, so they tell me, we have those pediments over the doors, and
faux columns along the walls. Quaint, and in need of a lick of paint, but there you
are . . . with bohemian parents like ours, not a lot one can do . . .
Maisie L: Your father is a poet, isn’t he?
Lydia M: Quite so, and writes the odd column here and there; mother on the other
hand does portraits – quite good ones, in between landscapes and the occasional still
life. So we just about manage to muddle through.
Maisie L: And they are touring Europe, I think you mentioned?
Lydia M: They were, they are now cruising the Nile, I believe, and then on to
Switzerland.
Maisie L: So you are holding the fort, so to speak?
Lydia M : Doing what I can. (twitches slightly)
Maisie L: Was that a bird?
Lydia M : It might have been. Shall I show you the garden?
(At this point we were joined by Miss Marchant’s brother, Bertie, together with his
theatre chums who had just returned from the theatre)
Bertie : I say, are you the journalist? Jolly welcome, have you seen the gallery yet?
No? Allow me then (escorts Maisie to the first floor)
(Upstairs):
Bertie : ... and here are some of the old Marchants from 1810 or thereabouts – this one
looks like me, don’t you think?
Maisie: Except for the waistcoat.
Bertie: And over here, our great-great-grandmother, Jemima – somewhat imperious
looking, ain’t she – and now, through this window we have a view of the front garden
– what do you think?
Maisie : Perfectly wonderful – my editor will be thrilled. I’ll just set up the tripod.
Bertie: Brought your camera with you. Excellent stuff …
Maisie L: (rummaging in bag) Oh dear – the lenses – must be in the other bag …
Bertie: Downstairs, is it? Allow me.
Bertie kindly went to fetch the bag I had left downstairs. It took me a little while to set
up the equipment, and while I was adjusting the tripod, I heard a rustling behind me,
of cloth, so I thought – I turned to see who it was, but saw only a shadow at the end of
the gallery, turning off into the older part of the house. Another guest, I imagined.
Come tea-time, I had taken several photographs of the garden, including the fishpond
and the rose garden. Not long after, Bertie’s actor friends returned in one rather large
and noisy car to regale us with accounts of how rehearsals went. None of them were
familiar to me, although I thought I had seen two of them before lunch – and Miss
Maydew recalled my mentioning the fact: -
Lydia M: How is the dress-rehearsal coming along, Freddy?
Freddy: Eh, what ? Dress rehearsal? Hardly.
Lydia M: Oh but Miss Letts met some of you in costume – just before lunch.
Actor 1: Really?
Actor 2: Where?
Actor 1: Here? But my dears, we’ve been at the theatre since ten this morning!
Freddy: Besides which, our costumes aren’t ready yet, so it would be a trifle difficult
– unless you have some hidden on the premises!
Lydia: So none of you have any costumes ?
Actor 2: None of us – yet. Ask Freddy.
(Freddy was the director, and quite able to account for everyone ... Lydia twitched
nervously and rang the bell)
Bertie: (to Maisie L) Could you have imagined it?
Maisie: I think not; quite colourfully dressed they were too, and in something of a
hurry.
Actor 2: I say, don’t tell me the place is haunted! (Roars of laughter, some
small discomfort from Maisie, L, more nervous twitches from Lydia. Enter the
housekeeper)
Lydia M: Ah, Mrs Cranshaw: were there any visitors this morning ? In theatre
costume ?
Mrs Cranshaw: Why no, miss, there’s been nobody today, save for Miss Lett.
And there the matter rested. The Maydews are ,most hospitable, and put me up
in a room for the night – next to where the two actresses are sleeping. All very
comfortable and with a real feel of the past to it; but I am not used to the quiet of
the countryside, so perhaps that is why I couldn’t sleep so well – every twig, every
whistle of wind … and I rather think there might be mice … certainly something
made a curious noise for much of the night, not unlike scissors, snipping, …
My editor approved of the photographs, although he was not as convinced as I about
the two men in costume; I think he thought I had been imaging things; he certainly
edited out all reference to them in my piece . . .)
It is still a puzzle to me, however, how two of Bertie’s actor friends could have had
time to leave the theatre unnoticed and appear at Hillburn in Elizabethan costume –
and indeed, why?
For the curious: Ungentle Sleep is available on Amazon at
http://www.amazon.com/Ungentle-Sleep-ebook/dp/B008VIJFLI
and
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Ungentle-Sleep-ebook/dp/B008VIJFLI
