House Guests

Greetings, fair readers! Today we have another instalment in our Wickhams/ Thorntons mashups, and we are hoping you will indulge us as we introduce a new character.

After a lifetime of hard-earned wisdom, the George and Lydia Wickham we all remember for their impulsiveness have grown rather respectable. Now doting grandparents, they have broadened their sphere of influence to a particular young couple, and a most unlikely friendship has formed. Indeed, many an eyebrow has arched over the tales discovered in their correspondence, in part due to the seeming incongruity of the couples concerned. However, there are times when we all find a kindred soul in unexpected places, and it seems the reserved young couple discovered the voice of experience and friendship in the flamboyant grandparents.

If you missed their early letters, you can find the beginnings of their story here:

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Wedding Advice

Today the tale resumes with the arrival of the Wickhams to Milton. They have not arrived alone, for accompanying them is one Harold Solomon Wellesley George Wickham, a favoured grandson. One cannot help but wonder how the formidable introduction will take place, and if the lad is a true Wickham at heart.


Margaret Thornton was smiling. That was not a rare circumstance, but the haste which accompanied her movements and the heightened scrutiny with which she surveyed her home impressed upon all its inhabitants that a particularly delightful event was to take place. She swept from the upstairs guest quarters to the formal drawing room, the library, the dining room, and at last the smallest sitting room, glancing over each piece of furniture and each dainty comfort with eager satisfaction.

Hannah Thornton, ever the staid matron, watched her daughter-in-law pace before her sewing chair at least four times. The house on Marlborough Street was in its proper order, as always, but Margaret absolutely insisted upon seeing to matters herself. The girl ought to be resting just now, but Hannah had long since given over any attempt to dissuade the young woman from whatever she had taken into her head. Time had proved her to be a match for John in every way, and that included her boundless energy and determination to see personally to each detail of her affairs.

“Margaret,” she dropped her sewing at last, “had not you ought to send for John? He will wish to greet your guests as well.” And, she hoped silently, he will make his wife take her rest!

“He promised that he would return at half past,” Margaret assured her as she breezed past to arrange a fragrant bower of pillows on the sofa.

Hannah lifted a brow. If John had made such a promise to his mother, he would have tried to keep it, but would have been just as likely to become embroiled in matters at the mill. If he made that promise to Margaret, he would arrive fifteen minutes early with his hands freshly washed and his cravat straightened. She shook her head and returned to her sewing. Before she had made two stitches, a door banged and John’s steps clattered anxiously in the foyer. Smiling just a little, Hannah raised her eyes to the mantel clock. Twenty minutes early.

Image result for John thornton

BBC

Margaret rushed from the room to welcome her husband in privacy, but they returned directly. As hoped, John absolutely demanded that Margaret seat herself. The reprieve was short-lived, however, as within moments a maid was announcing that the long-awaited guests were drawing to the door in a lavish carriage. Margaret bounded to her feet, glancing once more at the scented cushions to be certain their arrangement met her exacting standards. No frill might be out of place when Mrs Wickham graced the room with her opulent presence.


Mrs Lydia Wickham was every bit as flamboyant as her reputation and even more so than she had when she blessed the Thornton/Hale wedding with her presence.  She descended from the carriage in a cloud of white and gold, her beaming face peering out of the lashings of lace giving every impression of a cherub perched on high, the yellow flowers clustered around her hat lending a touch of the sun peeking from behind a cloud.

There were feathers too, of course, for when were there not if Mrs Wickham was in the vicinity, and diamonds gleamed on her fingers. In her arms she carried a neatly wrapped package, bound in bright yellow ribbon. The bow that topped it was every bit as fancy as the lady who carried the parcel and Mrs Wickham paused to peer up at the house with an approving nod as she approached.

Strolling in Lydia’s wake came George Wickham, his hands knitted behind his back as he ambled along, chatting to the young man at his side. Like his wife, Mr Wickham was clad in the finest fabrics yet where his wife was all drama, he was all understatement, every inch the gentleman who allowed his empress to command the stage.

And that young man was unmistakably a Wickham. Indeed, if one were to imagine the boy’s grandfather several decades earlier, then one would be forgiven for picturing a character not unlike the youngster. He would make a handsome man, no doubt, and shared that same mischievous twinkle in his dark eyes. Whether he shared the same sense of trouble remained to be seen.

“What a beautiful little house for any wife to command!” Lydia beamed, addressing herself to nobody in particular. “George, Harry, come along and see Mrs Thornton’s kingdom! You have tarried all day talking of nonsense, come now!”

Neither Mister nor Master Wickham jumped to her command but instead they maintained their strolling gait, leaving Lydia to tap one impatient foot.

“You are made of mischief!” Her tone was indulgent though and soon the Wickhams were together once more and ready to meet their hosts.

The master and mistress of the home awaited side by side, their apparel far more sombre than that of their guests, but every expression of pleasure was writ across their faces. Margaret Thornton’s sedate manners prevailed but a moment after the initial greetings, for even she was unequal to the tide of Lydia Wickham’s effusions. Everything was the subject of her admiration- the scope of the room, the heavy, ornate furnishings which seemed to have little in common with their mistress. Even the not-so-distant clatter of looms which caused them to raise their voices above the common level only lent her cause to express herself with more exuberance.

“I have rarely seen a place so beautiful and yet so very far from the south!” Lydia held out the parcel to Margaret and glanced towards Harry, who peered with interest at the gift. “For you, my dear. It is to be opened privately.”

Blushing slightly, but affecting a gracious nonchalance which did nothing to deceive her husband, Margaret thanked her. “How very kind, Mrs Wickham. I shall treasure your thoughtfulness.”

Beside her, John Thornton’s eyes twinkled as he offered his hand to first the lady, then the gentleman. “Indeed, we are most grateful. It is a pleasure to welcome you both at last. And this must be Master Harold, of whom we have heard so much!”

“This is our Harry,” Wickham told them proudly, gesturing to his young charge. “One of our many grandchildren; a young chap who is most dedicated to his horses, is that not so, sir?”

Harry nodded and told them, “I intend to be the youngest gent to train a winner at Epsom!”

Lydia beamed indulgently, addressing Margaret once more. “A Wickham in every manner of speaking!”

Image result for hannah thornton

BBC

Margaret smiled at the lad while gesturing toward her mother-in-law. “You remember Mrs Thornton, of course. This young man,” she turned toward the elder lady, “is Mr and Mrs Wickham’s grandson.”

“I have a gift for you also, Mrs Thornton,” Lydia remembered. “It is in the second carriage. I had intended to bring it with me but Mr Wickham has been most distracting!”

Hannah Thornton dipped a stately head, her eyes traveling over Lydia Wickham’s lavishly appointed person. She made her thanks, but rather soon her attention diverted to the young man. “How do you find our city, Master Wickham?”

Harry bowed low, his hand extended in a courtly, flamboyant flourish. Lydia nodded her approval as her grandson stood. He told Mrs Thornton, “Alas, I have seen little of it. My view was obscured by my grandmother’s ample cushions!”

Harry,” she whispered quickly, a tinkle of laughter following. “Such mischief!”

“We must amend that,” Mr Thornton smiled. “Mr Wickham, Master Harry, would either of you care to see the mill? Or perhaps my wife had other plans for you.” He gave a knowing sideways glance toward his lady.

“If Mrs Thornton has no other plans, it would be a pleasure,” Wickham replied. With a swift glance to his grandfather, Harry nodded keenly. “It will do young Harry good to see something of industry, without cushions to obscure his view!”


Next time, Master Harry Wickham undertakes a trip to the mill in the care of his host and, of course, his grandfather, Mr George Wickham. As the member of a family noted for its mischief, what mayhem might young Master Wickham leave in his wake?

13 comments

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    • Mary on June 29, 2017 at 4:05 am
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    What a delightful story! I can’t imagine what ‘private’ gift Lydia gave Margaret…..oh! To be a fly on the wall when she opens it!!!

    As for Master Harold visiting the mill? Seeing as he’s George’s grandson he’s going to be tempted to dally and tinker with things he knows he ought not.

    Perhaps he will cause consternation and confusion when he flirts with some of the young girls at the mill,causing them to err in their routine??

    On the other hand,he may become enamoured of the machinery,their mechanical rhythm beating out a tattoo that resonates within him,similar to the drills and marches that were so familiar to a young George W in the militia many years ago.

    He might have found his true calling and the source of funding to purchase and train his own horse at Epsom?

    This is probably too far fetched but who knows??? If he’s a Wickham,anything is possible!!

    Cheers for such an interesting post!!

      • George Wickham on June 29, 2017 at 5:20 am
      • Reply

      Good day to you! We Wickhams have always had adventure running in our veins, nothing is too far fetched for one of our number!

    1. Flirting with the young girls? I’m sure he would never dream of it.

    • Glynis on June 29, 2017 at 4:59 am
    • Reply

    Well it seems that John is as appreciative of his wife’s gift as she is by the twinkle in his eyes. I imagine he will be there when she does open it. (I loved that he arrived earlier than stated as his mother noted!)
    And young Harry? Well if he takes after either if his grandparents there will surely be trouble ahead. Hopefully he won’t disrupt production too much.

      • George Wickham on June 29, 2017 at 5:21 am
      • Reply

      Trouble *and* entertainment, one hopes!

      1. Oh, I am certain some entertainment shall be had.

  1. Mischief making at and by the machines. He may cause a brief halt in their operations…

    1. One never knows!

      • George Wickham on June 29, 2017 at 9:09 am
      • Reply

      Mischief making? A Wickham!?

    • Carole in Canada on June 29, 2017 at 11:18 am
    • Reply

    Ah the estimable Mrs.Wickham at last! It is just how I imagined her…’a cloud of white and gold’…lace, flowers and feathers! Mrs. Bennet would be so proud of her darling girl.

    Oh I do hope Mr. Wickham keeps a close eye on his Harry. Boys and the workings of machinery are a definite lure to their curiosity!

      • George Wickham on June 29, 2017 at 11:54 am
      • Reply

      My fragrant Mrs Wickham, never far from a feather!

  2. I’m like everyone else…a bit worried about young Harry and the machinery at the mill. I’m hoping nothing ‘too’ disastrous happens. Oh, to be sure, there will be some flirting! lol

    The description of Lydia is so fitting. I love it.

    What was her gift to Margaret and what will her gift to Hannah be??? Questions. I do like the twinkle in John’s eye as if he suspicions just what that gift might be. Maybe we will all be privy to the opening of it! 🙂 HINT, HINT!

    I must say, I am enjoying this rather more sedate and mature George Wickham. He has mellowed ‘a bit’ with age. I’m liking him. (Never thought I would say that about dear old George!) Wouldn’t he hate me calling him that?! lol

      • George Wickham on June 29, 2017 at 3:34 pm
      • Reply

      My dear Miss T, thank you very much indeed!

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