Janet Aylmer: Julia and the Master of Morancourt

“Thank you, Harry. May I introduce my daughters, Julia Maitland—and not forgetting Sophie?” Both the young ladies curtsied to their host.

“Indeed, you are both very welcome. I wish that we had such fine young ladies living in this house.”

Julia found his rather effusive style of speaking rather disconcerting, but Sophie was delighted. After all, she was eighteen years old now, but was always chafing at her more junior status in the family. Only the fact that Harriet was two years younger made her feel like the grown-up young lady she felt she had now become.

“Do you want the bag with you, Miss?”

They both turned, and the groom gestured towards the tapestry bag still resting on the seat of the carriage. Before Julia could reply, Sophie pushed forward and took it. Clutching the handle, Sophie started to walk up the steps.

“Sophie!” She stopped as Julia checked her. “Wait for Mr. Douglas to conduct us.”

Their host laughed. “I like to see a young lady with spirit.” And to the coachman he said, “Please take the carriage round to the stables.”

Then Mr. Douglas took their father’s arm and they walked up the steps with the two sisters following behind.

As she passed through the front door, the butler took the tapestry bag from Sophie and put it on a chair with a velvet seat. She was about to protest but thought better of it when she saw Julia’s expression.

Sensing her urgency, Mr. Douglas said, “I don’t know where Jack is, but he can’t be far away. Reuben, go and tell him that Miss Maitland and Miss Sophie have arrived. He’s probably somewhere in the farm buildings.”

The groom hurried away, and their father followed Harry Douglas through the doorway.

Inside, a handsome wooden staircase with a graceful balustrade curved away towards the rear of the hall and then split into two parts to reach the first floor. Beyond stone pillars on each side, panelled doors could be seen leading to several spacious reception rooms, and straight ahead the park outside was visible through several tall windows. Large paintings hung on the walls above more velvet chairs, and a large Turkish carpet occupied the centre of the floor. Mama would be impressed by all this, Julia thought.

The soles of her shoes echoed on the wooden floor as they were led along a wide corridor to the left, passing a large formal dining room, and they were about to enter the main salon at the end when Julia caught sight of a library on the right side of the corridor. Mr. Douglas paused and spoke to someone within.

“Kit, here are Lewis Maitland and his two daughters.” And he led the way into the room. The library was large and lined with tall bookshelves on every side, which were full of volumes from floor to ceiling.

Sitting at a table on the far side of the room was a young man with dark hair who looked up as they came in. He laid down his pen on a list that he had been writing and, rising from his seat, came forward to meet them, limping slightly. His clear green eyes met Julia’s grey ones as their host made the introductions.

“Mr. Lewis Maitland, Miss Maitland, Miss Sophie, this is my son Kit Douglas,” and to his son, he continued, “Miss Maitland, I am told, is very fond of books.”

Turning to Julia, he added, “Is that not so?”

“Yes, sir—what a well-stocked library! Perhaps I might be allowed to have a look at some of the books later on? It’s true, I am fond of reading.”

“But of course,” said Mr. Douglas, looking at his son who, after a slight pause, said, “Miss Maitland, would you like to look at the list of our latest acquisitions now?”

“Oh, I should love to do that. Would you excuse me, Mr. Douglas, for a short while?”

“But of course, my dear. I rarely look at a book, being much more of a practical man myself. The library here was created by my wife, who brought some of the books from her family’s home. And our son Kit here has continued her interest.”

Behind them, Sophie fidgeted at the delay. Noticing this, her host said to Julia, “Lewis and I will take your sister into the drawing room for some light refreshments before you both go riding.”

And he led his other guests out through the panelled double doors towards the corridor, leaving Julia with Kit Douglas.

“Miss Maitland, if you will come to the table, you can look at my list of books and choose some volumes to see.”

Julia crossed the room and sat down on a chair that he had pulled forward next to him. There were several sheets of paper filled with neat writing, which he explained listed the titles and authors of a pile of books on the far side of the table.

“These are some volumes that I purchased on the Continent, before I came home. Which ones will you choose?”

Kit Douglas handed the sheets to her and she looked through them quickly. Then she pointed at three books on the list.

“You have unusual tastes in literature, Miss Maitland.”

She looked at him rather warily, and then caught a hint of humour in his expression, so she said, “My father has always encouraged me to read widely. You consider that inappropriate for a young lady?”

This time he smiled quite broadly. “If I had any sisters, Miss Maitland, I’m sure that they should have access to the same range of volumes as I do.”

He chose the books that she had indicated from the pile and handed them to her. “I purchased two of these whilst I was in Spain, for my regiment was quartered in an old town where there was a very interesting bookshop.”

“Oh, have you been to the Peninsula? Did you meet my brother David there?”

“No, I did not have that pleasure. My father said that he was in the same regiment as the Brandon brothers.”

His manner seemed to her to be rather serious, but that was more to Julia’s liking than the brasher style of many young men.

“You, too, like books very much? Are these all from the Continent?”

“Yes, all those here on the side table—but we have many others on the shelves, as you can see.”

Julia looked quickly through two of the books, conscious of being scrutinised with a clear gaze. When she came to the last volume, the smallest one, she opened it carefully, and then cried out with delight. For it was a Book of Hours, bound in pale brown leather and beautifully illustrated with pictures in many colours highlighted with gold leaf, and with the text written in Latin on cream-colored calfskin.

“So you like La Passerelle ?” he said.

“Oh yes, very much. Is that the French title?”

He took the book and opened it towards the end of the volume.

“Not the title—perhaps you would call it a nickname. If you look at this picture, can you see that there is a bridge, reaching across to the next world? See how the artist has coloured the details of the bridge very carefully, using extra detail in gold leaf as it reaches towards heaven?”

“Oh, of course—bridge, gangway—that is la passerelle in French!”

“Yes, exactly right. I came across the book by chance, and I had to buy it.”

She smiled at him. “I can quite understand why.”

He hesitated, and then said, “I purchased it as a gift, but I was unable to deliver the book to the person for whom it was intended.”

There was something in his manner that prevented her from asking more. In any case, it was none of her business.

He coughed politely, and Julia remembered where she was.

“Perhaps we should join the others in the salon now, Miss Maitland. Otherwise, you may not have time for any refreshments before our ride. I hope that you will allow me to accompany you and your sister?”

She inclined her head without speaking, and followed him along the corridor to where her father was sitting with Mr. Douglas and Sophie in the salon, eating some small cakes with a glass of cordial.