The Enchanted April, Chapter 7

Join Mrs Wilkins and Mrs Arbuthnot as their first morning at the castle unfolds. They discover that Lady Caroline is not the only guest who has got there before them. But can anything put a dint in the two ladies' happiness? Listen in and find out.

Transcript

Hello there,

It's Mandy here.

Thanks so much for joining me tonight to listen to chapter 7 of Elizabeth von Arnim's book The Enchanted April.

We left Lady Caroline sweeping off to breakfast,

Hoping that she'd managed to snub Mrs.

Wilkins and Mrs.

Arbuthnot.

But before we go on to find out what happened it's worth mentioning that if you'd like to see all the chapters of The Enchanted April in one place on Insight Timer,

I have now created a playlist and you can find that if you just search under my name.

Okay,

So do go ahead now and make yourself really comfortable and I'll begin.

Chapter 7.

Their eyes followed her admiringly.

They had no idea that they had been snubbed.

It was a disappointment of course to find she had forestalled them and that they were not to have the happiness of preparing for her,

Of watching her face when she arrived and first saw everything.

But there was still Mrs.

Fisher.

They would concentrate on Mrs.

Fisher and would watch her face instead,

Except like everybody else they would have preferred to watch Lady Caroline's.

Perhaps then,

As Lady Caroline had talked of breakfast,

They had better begin by going and having it,

For there was too much to be done that day to spend any more time gazing at the scenery.

They waved their hands gaily at Lady Caroline,

Who seemed absorbed in what she saw and took no notice,

And turning away found the maidservant of the night before had come up silently behind them in cloth slippers with string soles.

She was Francesca,

The elderly parlour maid,

Who had been with the owner,

He had said,

For years and whose presence made inventories unnecessary.

And after wishing them good morning and hoping they had slept well,

She told them breakfast was ready in the dining room on the floor below and if they would follow her she would lead.

They did not understand a single word of the very many in which Francesca succeeded in clothing this simple information,

But they followed her,

For at least it was clear that they were to follow.

And going down the stairs and along the broad hall,

Like the one above except for glass doors at the end,

Instead of a window opening into the garden,

They were shown into the dining room where,

Sitting at the head of the table having her breakfast,

Was Mrs.

Fisher.

This time they exclaimed.

Even Mrs.

Arbuthnot exclaimed,

Though her exclamation was only,

Oh!

Mrs.

Wilkins exclaimed at greater length,

Why but it's like having the bread taken out of one's mouth,

She exclaimed.

How do you do,

Said Mrs.

Fisher.

I can't get up because of my stick.

And she stretched out her hand across the table.

They advanced and shook it.

We had no idea you were here,

Said Mrs.

Arbuthnot.

Yes,

Said Mrs.

Fisher,

Resuming her breakfast.

Yes,

I am here.

And with composure she removed the top of her egg.

It's a great disappointment,

Said Mrs.

Wilkins.

We had meant to give you such a welcome.

This was the one,

Mrs.

Fisher remembered,

Briefly glancing at her,

Who when she came to Prince of Wales Terrace said she had seen Keats.

She must be careful with this one.

Curb her from the beginning.

She therefore ignored Mrs.

Wilkins and said gravely,

With a downward face of impenetrable calm,

Bent on her egg.

Yes,

I arrived yesterday with Lady Caroline.

It's really dreadful,

Said Mrs.

Wilkins,

Exactly as if she had not been ignored.

There's nobody left to get anything ready for now.

I feel thwarted.

I feel as if the bread had been taken out of my mouth just when I was going to be happy swallowing it.

Where will you sit,

Asked Mrs.

Fisher of Mrs.

Arbuthnot.

Markedly,

Of Mrs.

Arbuthnot,

The comparison with the bread seemed to her most unpleasant.

Oh,

Thank you,

Said Mrs.

Arbuthnot,

Sitting down rather suddenly next to her.

There were only two places she could sit down in,

The places laid on either side of Mrs.

Fisher.

She therefore sat down in one,

And Mrs.

Wilkins sat down opposite her in the other.

Mrs.

Fisher was at the head of the table.

Around her was grouped the coffee and the tea.

Of course,

They were all sharing San Salvatore equally,

But it was she herself and Lottie,

Mrs.

Arbuthnot mildly reflected,

Who had found it,

Who had had the work of getting it,

Who had chosen to admit Mrs.

Fisher into it.

Without them,

She could not help thinking,

Mrs.

Fisher would not have been there.

Morally,

Mrs.

Fisher was a guest.

There was no hostess in this party,

But supposing there had been a hostess,

It would not have been Mrs.

Fisher,

Nor Lady Caroline.

It would have been either herself or Lottie.

Mrs.

Arbuthnot could not help feeling this as she sat down,

And Mrs.

Fisher,

The hand which Ruskin had wrung,

Suspended over the pots before her,

Inquired,

Tea or coffee?

She could not help feeling it even more definitely when Mrs.

Fisher touched a small gong on the table beside her,

As though she had been used to that gong and that table ever since she was little,

And on Francesca's appearing,

Bade her,

In the language of Dante,

Bring more milk.

There was a curious air about Mrs.

Fisher,

Thought Mrs.

Arbuthnot,

Of being in possession,

And if she herself had not been so happy,

She would have perhaps minded.

Mrs.

Wilkins noticed it too,

But it only made her discursive brain think of cuckoos.

She would no doubt immediately have begun to talk of cuckoos,

Incoherently,

Unrestrainably,

And deplorably,

If she had been in the condition of nerves and shyness she was in last time she saw Mrs.

Fisher.

But happiness had done away with shyness.

She was very serene.

She could control her conversation.

She did not have horrified to listen to herself saying things she had no idea of saying when she began.

She was quite at her ease and completely natural.

The disappointment of not going to be able to prepare a welcome for Mrs.

Fisher had evaporated at once,

For it was impossible to go on being disappointed in heaven.

Nor did she mind her behaving as a hostess.

What did it matter?

You did not mind things in heaven.

She and Mrs.

Arbuthnot,

Therefore,

Sat down more willingly than they otherwise would have done,

One on either side of Mrs.

Fisher,

And the sun pouring through the two windows facing east across the bay flooded the room,

And there was an open door leading into the garden,

And the garden was full of many lovely things,

Especially freesias.

The delicate and delicious fragrance of the freesias came in through the door and floated around Mrs.

Wilkins' enraptured nostrils.

Freesias in London were quite beyond her.

Occasionally she went into a shop and asked what they cost,

So as just to have an excuse for lifting up a bunch and smelling them,

Well knowing that it was something awful,

Like a shilling for about three flowers.

Here they were everywhere,

Bursting out of every corner and carpeting the rose beds.

Imagine it,

Having freesias to pick in armfuls if you wanted to,

And with glorious sunshine flooding the room,

And in your summer frock,

And it's being only the first of April.

I suppose you realise,

Don't you,

That we've gone to heaven,

She said,

Beaming at Mrs.

Fisher with all the familiarity of a fellow angel.

They are considerably younger than I had supposed,

Thought Mrs.

Fisher,

And not nearly so plain,

And she mused a moment while she took no notice of Mrs.

Wilkins' exuberance on their instant and agitated refusal that day at Prince of Wales Terrace to have anything to do with the giving or the taking of references.

Nothing could affect her,

Of course,

Nothing that anybody did.

She was far too solidly seated in respectability.

At her back stood massively,

In a tremendous row,

Those three great names she had offered,

And they were not the only ones she could turn to for support and countenance.

Even if these young women,

She had no grounds for believing the one out in the garden to be really Lady Caroline Dester,

She had merely been told she was,

Even if these young women should all turn out to be what Browning used to call,

How well she remembered his amusing and delightful way of putting things,

Fly-by-nights,

What could it possibly or in any way matter to her?

Let them fly by night if they wished.

One was not sixty-five for nothing.

In any case,

There would only be four weeks of it,

At the end of which she would see no more of them.

And in the meanwhile,

There were plenty of places where she could sit quietly away from them and remember.

Also,

There was her own sitting room,

A charming room,

All honey-coloured furniture and pictures with windows to the sea towards Genoa and a door opening onto the battlements.

The house possessed two sitting rooms,

And she explained to that pretty creature Lady Caroline,

Certainly a pretty creature whatever else she was,

Tennyson would have enjoyed tagging her for blows on the downs,

Who had seemed inclined to appropriate the honey-coloured one that she needed some little refuge entirely to herself because of her stick.

No one wants to see an old woman hobbling about everywhere,

She had said.

I shall be quite content to spend much of my time by myself in here or sitting out on these convenient battlements.

And she had a very nice bedroom too.

It looked two ways,

Across the bay in the morning sun,

She liked the morning sun,

And onto the garden.

There were only two of these bedrooms with cross views in the house.

She and Lady Caroline had discovered this,

And they were by far the airiest.

They each had two beds in them,

And she and Lady Caroline had had the extra beds taken out at once and put into two of the other rooms.

In this way there was much more space and comfort.

Lady Caroline indeed had turned hers into a bed sitting room with the sofa out of the bigger drawing room,

And the writing table,

And the most comfortable chair.

But she herself had not had to do that because she had her own sitting room equipped with what was necessary.

Lady Caroline had thought at first of taking the bigger sitting room entirely for her own,

Because the dining room on the floor below could quite well be used between meals to sit in by the two others,

And was a very pleasant room with nice chairs.

But she had not liked the bigger sitting room's shape.

It was a round room in the tower,

With deep slit windows pierced through the massive walls,

And a domed and ribbed ceiling arranged to look like an open umbrella,

And it seemed a little dark.

Undoubtedly Lady Caroline had cast covetous glances at the honey-coloured room,

And if she,

Mrs Fisher,

Had been less firm would have installed herself in it,

Which would have been absurd.

I hope,

Said Mrs Arbuthnot,

Smilingly making an attempt to convey to Mrs Fisher that though she,

Mrs Fisher,

Might not be exactly a guest,

She certainly was not in the very least a hostess.

Your room is comfortable.

Quite,

Said Mrs Fisher.

Will you have some more coffee?

No,

Thank you.

Will you?

No,

Thank you.

There were two beds in my bedroom,

Filling it up unnecessarily,

And I had one taken out.

It has made it much more convenient.

Oh,

That's why I've got two beds in my room,

Exclaimed Mrs Wilkins,

Illuminated.

The second bed in her little cell had seemed an unnatural and inappropriate object from the moment she saw it.

I gave no directions,

Said Mrs Fisher,

Addressing Mrs Arbuthnot.

I merely asked Francesca to remove it.

I have two in my room as well,

Said Mrs Arbuthnot.

Your second one must be Lady Caroline's.

She had hers removed too,

Said Mrs Fisher.

It seems foolish to have more beds in a room than there are occupiers.

But we haven't got husbands here either,

Said Mrs Wilkins,

And I don't see any use in extra beds in one's room if one hasn't got husbands to put in them.

Can't we have them taken away too?

Beds,

Said Mrs Fisher,

Coldly,

Cannot be removed from one room after another.

They must remain somewhere.

Mrs Wilkins' remarks seemed,

To Mrs Fisher,

Persistently unfortunate.

Each time she opened her mouth she said something best left unsaid.

Loose talk about husbands had never,

In Mrs Fisher's circle,

Been encouraged.

In the 80s,

When she chiefly flourished,

Husbands were taken seriously as the only real obstacles to sin.

Beds too,

If they had to be mentioned,

Were approached with caution,

And a decent reserve prevented them and husbands ever being spoken of in the same breath.

She turned more markedly than ever to Mrs Arbuthnot.

Do let me give you a little more coffee,

She said.

No thank you,

But won't you have some more?

No indeed,

I never have more than two cups at breakfast.

Would you like an orange?

No thank you,

Would you?

No,

I don't eat fruit at breakfast.

It is an American fashion which I am too old now to adopt.

Have you had all you want?

Quite.

Have you?

Mrs Fisher paused before replying.

Was this a habit,

This trick of answering a simple question with the same question?

If so,

It must be curbed,

For no one could live for four weeks in any real comfort with somebody who had a habit.

She glanced at Mrs Arbuthnot,

And her parted hair and gentle brow reassured her.

No,

It was accident,

Not habit,

That had produced those echoes.

She could as soon imagine a dove having tiresome habits as Mrs Arbuthnot.

Considering her,

She thought what a splendid wife she would have been for poor Carlyle.

So much better than that horrid,

Clever Jane.

She would have soothed him.

Then shall we go,

She suggested.

Let me help you up,

Said Mrs Arbuthnot,

All consideration.

Oh thank you,

I can manage perfectly.

It's only sometimes that my stick prevents me.

Mrs Fisher got up quite easily.

Mrs Arbuthnot had hovered over her for nothing.

I'm going to have one of these gorgeous oranges,

Said Mrs Wilkins,

Staying where she was and reaching across to a black bowl piled with them.

Rose,

How can you resist them?

Look,

Have this one,

Do have this beauty,

And she held out a big one.

No,

I'm going to see to my duties,

Said Mrs Arbuthnot,

Moving towards the door.

You'll forgive me for leaving you,

Won't you,

She added politely to Mrs Fisher.

Mrs Fisher moved towards the door too,

Quite easily,

Almost quickly.

Her stick did not hinder her at all.

She had no intention of being left with Mrs Wilkins.

What time would you like to have lunch,

Mrs Arbuthnot asked her,

Trying to keep her head as at least a non-guest,

If not precisely a hostess,

Above water.

Lunch,

Said Mrs Fisher,

Is at half past twelve.

You shall have it at half past twelve then,

Said Mrs Arbuthnot.

I'll tell the cook.

It will be a great struggle,

She continued,

Smiling,

But I've brought a little dictionary.

The cook,

Said Mrs Fisher,

Knows.

Oh,

Said Mrs Arbuthnot,

Lady Caroline has already told her,

Said Mrs Fisher.

Oh,

Said Mrs Arbuthnot,

Yes,

Lady Caroline speaks a kind of Italian,

Cooks understand.

I am prevented going into the kitchen because of my stick,

And even if I were able to go,

I fear I shouldn't be understood.

But,

Began Mrs Arbuthnot,

But it's too wonderful,

Mrs Wilkins finished for her from the table,

Delighted with these unexpected simplifications in her and Rose's lives.

Why,

We've got positively nothing to do here,

Either of us,

Except just be happy.

You wouldn't believe,

She said,

Turning her head and speaking straight to Mrs Fisher,

Portions of orange in either hand,

How terribly good Rose and I have been for years without stopping,

And now how much we need a perfect rest.

And Mrs Fisher,

Going without answering her,

Out of the room,

Said to herself,

She must,

She shall,

Be curbed.

To be continued.

Reviews

The descriptions of both the grandeur of the Italian castle with sea and garden to the smallest of gestures and glances make this novel so compelling! Many thanks Mandy💜✨

I’m sure that the sunny climate and fragrant flowers of Italy will melt the snobbery. Thanks Mandy 🙏🏻