The Village of Garcia Fortuna

Blindingham
September 4th 1853

I am sitting with Dauncey on my lap, drinking morning coffee on my own terrace at last. I am glad no-one is with me to chatter and bewilder my mind still further  - last night's supper with that woman was enough to send me mad. I shall have to tell Josiah what she said, of course, but for now I must order my thoughts and work out what it is that he must know and what I must keep to myself (and Boo).

As the boy drove me up the lane to Lydiatt House, the whole drab collection of Cornbenches idled out to meet me, like a herd of docile cattle. I alighted from the trap and was dragged pathetically into the house by the children - who showed as much spirit as could be expected, I suppose, from those borne into dreary dullness. Mrs Cornbench clasped my arm and said,

" Oh my dear, how pleased we are to see you back in your rightful place! Blindingham is empty without you. Do come and eat with us while we tell you everything that has happened here while you have been up in London. You might not think the City so exciting when you learn what goes on in the country!"

She babbled on in this tiresome manner throughout the whitebait and right up until the end of the soup. Eventually Mr Cornbench hushed her and we endured some greying beef in relative peace.

The Cornbenches are very modern people who believe their children should dine with company - I can only imagine how quiet they are when alone - so it was not until they had been sent to their beds that I began to understand the reason for all the faddle about village news.

"My dear Mrs Hatherwick, permit me to speak with freedom in the interests of your continued happiness, now you are returned home." (Mr Cornbench addressed me as if I were at the Assizes; I became quite unsettled at his tone) "You will be pleased, I am convinced of it, that we have taken it upon ourselves to apprise you of recent events."

He paused, waiting for what I don't know. I adopted an expression of puzzled interest in the hope that he would carry on speaking without me having to bother to request it. He took my hint,

"Someone has arrived to take lodging in the Village. A very interesting character - he is from Italy by all accounts and is every bit as exotic as his provenance would suggest."

Exotic? What on earth could he mean? And it would only take  two cloves in an orange for Mr Cornbench to declare a whole fruit basket exotic, so I was not expecting a great deal from this story.

" He is called Mr Fortuna. Mr Garcia Fortuna from Naples. Naples is in Italy."

"I guessed as much," I said. "And do you know why has this Mr Fortuna come to live in the village?"

"He is to paint our portraits - every one of us! He has a commission from a very honourable patron; we are all to become famous in the Galleries of Rome!" Mrs Cornbench squealed and bounced around in her seat, til I was forced to address her, too.

"Paint our portraits? Who on earth should wish to see the residents of Blindingham preserved in oils?"

I was quite perplexed by the news and by the degree of excitement it warranted, until I heard the answer to my question.

" My dear! We are to hang in the halls of the Emperor of Austria, Franz Josef! Mr Fortuna is to spend a year observing us ordinary village folk (I bridled a little at being included in that group, but bit my tongue in the presence of Royalty...) and he is to send his works to Italy where the Emperor is regaining power from the Revolutionaries! Now, tell me that is not the most exciting news ever to have reached your pretty ears!"

Mrs Cornbench had quite forgotten herself as she reached for my ears to tweak them in her frenzy. I recoiled enough to save my dignity, but I was extremely exercised by the whole business.

I could not - and can still not - fathom why an Emperor of Austria should wish to furnish his Italian acquisitions with images of rural Surrey. But if Signor Garcia Fortuna is to paint portraits for the Royal Houses of Europe, I should like to ensure that one of them is of me.

My concern now is how much of this news to convey to Josiah. He is quite capable of living an entire six-month at Blindingham without knowing anything of local activity or gossip, but if I am to sit for a painting I shall have to spend some time with this Mr Fortuna. If he is an unmarried gentleman, Josiah will not hear of it, I am sure. I will write to Boo and ask her advice - she is quite shrewd where my husband is concerned and has often steered me to the best course of action in my dealings with him. Bless her, she must listen as closely as any friend could when I speak of him - she almost knows his thoughts as well as I do myself!

Gossip Girl

Blindingham
September 2nd 1853

Here I am - as Mistress of Blindingham once more! If the past two days of travel and travail are typical of my fortunes I swear I shall never leave this house again. It is beautiful and it is my own!

As usual the servants were lined up to see me in and some of the girls were obviously pleased to watch Dauncey as he investigated - he did look small when he stood on the doorstep for the first time, bless him.  I remembered fondly the days when Villiers and Cook were at the head of the line but I cannot wish history away - if things never changed at all I would still be happy, playing with my dolls and dreaming of my future, instead of being Josiah's wife. Which is the greatest happiness, of course.

Jennet was present, not in the welcome party but foraging somewhere close by and his new bride was smiling rather too brightly, I thought, as she watched me pass. She suits a highly coloured outfit far better than she does a laundry apron, I must confess. Still, I shall most probably never see her unless I venture into the washrooms - and I do not think my hair would survive too many forays there.

I fancied that Jennet watched me with some sadness, but I was so happy to be on my own doorstep I chose not to care much about him.

To be at Blindingham without Villiers - or any butler for that matter - will be a trial of sorts, but I shall press Josiah for a solution when he returns. I shall busy myself with teaching Dauncey where he is to sleep and which areas of the lawn he must not dig up. Watching him fall in love with this house will be a delight.

As I was being brought tea in the afternoon, the footman gave me a note from the intolerable Cornbenches, inviting me to dine with them tomorrow. Such tedium! She wrote that she has much to tell me about the goings on in the village this Summer - I can only hope they serve strong coffee after dinner, else I shall fall dead asleep on my plate with boredom.

Unplanned stoppage

Sommersbury Turnpike Inn
August 31st 1853

This day has been too much for me to bear! Not five hours into my solitary journey I was beset by trouble and had not the faintest notion of when a living soul would realise my plight.

When I say 'living' I should truly say that I mean 'conscious'. My driver, after a number of treacherous departures from the designated road we were on, suddenly slumped in a stupor across his driving plate! He remained there, quite still but making the sort of noise I imagine might come from a half-slaughtered sow, for an interminable age while Dauncey and I tried to wake him.

I eventually noticed that we had stopped within sight of a small coaching house, so I stepped down from the carriage and carried my companion with me to see if anyone sensible might be in attendance there.

It was only the services of the woman from the Inn and her runt of a servant boy that saved me from certain disaster. On seeing my driver, she indicated to the boy that he knew what to do - I had the strange impression that this kind of occurrence was not unfamiliar to her - and within two minutes he had climbed onto the carriage plate and emptied a bowl of water onto the driver's head. Miraculously, he was not dead or dying after all  - but his revival was not sufficient for him to restart our journey.

I am now sitting with Dauncey in a room which I would not use at home even to store sweeping brushes. The driver is asleep in a room above me and so Dauncey and I must wait until he is fit to resume his task of setting us safely down on the Blindingham approach. I cannot tell how many hours I may have to endure here - with the Inn keeper's wife revelling in my misfortune whenever she brings me some soup - but I can assure the owners of the South Eastern Express Coach Company that very soon they shall have to change either their workforce or their name. They cannot carry on with both.

Dog tracks

Sydney Walk
August 30th 1853

Josiah is sending me ahead to Blindingham without anyone to accompany me! I am to travel tomorrow with no knowledge of whether Villiers is to return to us. I am distraught at such a prospect - however shall I manage when I arrive? There will be staff there, of course - Josiah is not a cruel husband who would abandon me to dress my own hair - but no-one with Villiers' knowledge of how to run the House. I pleaded with him to let me wait a few more days to see if Papa would change his mind as well but he was firm in his resolve. He said he had urgent business which could not be ignored and that I was too much of a distraction from his duties. I suppose I should be pleased that my husband's attention can still be drawn by me after all these years but I am nevertheless not happy at his ruling. He is not the sort of man to leave things undone, though, and I must abide by his wishes.

So, I shall pack my clothes in my bags and put Dauncey in my coat sleeves for the journey - he will entertain me every bit as much as Villiers could, I am sure.

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