Arrangements

Posted on Sun Jun 23rd, 2024 @ 2:26pm by Lord Archibald Battersly & Lady Catherine Battersly & Peter Stone & Lord Louis Battersly Earl of Marnemouth & Lord Fredrick Battersly
Edited on on Sun Jun 23rd, 2024 @ 2:26pm

2,202 words; about a 11 minute read

Mission: Death of a Monarch
Location: The Small Library, Thrushstone Park
Timeline: 23 January 1901, 0830 Hours

Archie made his way to the small library after changing into black. The small library was a room he’d come to value as a sanctuary of sorts. He spent many a day here, especially since his wife had fallen ill. He wanted to be close to home and had canceled many plans to travel in order to stay put.

Lord Ribble had asked his valet, Fitzroy, to arrange for tea to be brought to the library when he went down to the servant’s hall. Shortly after the Marquess settled at the desk and pulled out a stack of paper, Peter arrived with a silver tray in hand.

“You can set that on the table there.” Lord Ribble indicated an ornate oak table near the room’s window. “We can serve ourselves, and I’ll ring if we need anything else.” Archie smiled ever so slightly at the footman.

“Of course my lord.” Peter set the tea service on the table selected by the Marquess, and then bowed at the neck in reverence to his lordship, before departing the library.

Archie found his fountain pen and set out to write a letter to His Majesty the King. He could not, however, find the requisite words to express his condolences. Condolences for both the death of his friend's mother, but also his ascension to the throne. As the saying goes, heavy is the head that wears the crown.

Feeling a bit defeated, Archibald stood and crossed to where the tea was set up. Grabbing a cup and saucer for himself, Lord Ribble poured the tea through the strainer into his cup and retrieved a small spoonful of sugar. He gently stirred his drink just as his sons entered.

It seemed his grandmama was right. Hawkins, Fredrick’s valet, had helped him change into a mourning suit and it practically dwarfed him. Apparently most of his jackets did now. How had he lost several inches away at school he wondered. “Father, will this do or do I need to buy a smaller jacket?” Freddie asked, walking in.

Archibald regarded his younger son as he had entered the library. He frowned slightly. “Have Hawkins take a look at it. I’m sure he can take it in.” Lord Ribble didn’t have a huge amount of experience with Hawkins, having hired the new valet shortly after Freddie arrived home. “He should take a look at all your jackets before we go to London.”

Frederick nodded. “I don’t understand how I have got smaller, but yes I shall get him on that straight away father.”

Louis walked into the library and smiled briefly upon seeing his father's tea service.

"It seems I did something right and am being rewarded," he said, gesturing towards the table and the tea service. Without elaborating further, Louis walked over to the service and poured himself a cup once his father was done. He skipped the sugar and milk and took a seat on the nearest sofa.

“Now that you’re both here,” Archibald began, moving back to his desk he set his cup aside “we will need to leave for London tomorrow. We’ll be on the ten o’clock train.” Lord Ribble sat and reached for his tea. He took a short sip and set it aside again.

“Will we remain in London for the coronation,” Louis asked between sips of tea.

“I expect it will be some time before a coronation.” Archibald spoke with an even tone. “Parliament will want to give the country time to mourn Queen Victoria before they crown Bertie.” He lowered his voice.”I suspect he’ll want that as well.” Lord Ribble took a shallow breath. “So we’ll come back after the burial.” He began nodding, reassuring himself that that was the right course of action.

“I think I will call upon several friends from the Regiment whilst in London. I know the occasion is austere, but I would be remiss in not contacting them,” Louis explained. He sipped his tea again, thinking for a moment.

“If the Regiment puts together a showing of veterans for the funeral, would I put you in a terrible place being with them instead of the family,” Louis asked earnestly. His intention wasn’t to turn the Queen’s funeral into a social gathering but he rarely had the opportunity to meet with his fellows from the Regiment.

“Not at all.” Archibald said, shaking his head. He was proud that his eldest son had some military service under his belt, but saw this as an opportunity to educate not only Louis but also Fredrick. “I know you’re both probably eager to be in London and see your friends, I know I would be at your age. I just want us to be sure we are being tactful. That will mean limiting the visitors at Ribble House. Especially with your sister in mind, as she’s not yet out.” Lord Ribble’s fingers fiddled with the handle of his teacup. “We will want to keep our drinking in hand as well.” He offered a pointed look in the direction of his younger son.

Fred kept his face straight. Perhaps his father knew more than he had given him credit for then. “Yes father. Do you think there will be a season? My twin is due her debut this year.” Usually the season was from around March/April time but if the country was in mourning and a new monarch was to be crowned it seemed that it would be a strange one. Perhaps a shorter one. Not that he had attended one yet having been away at school. His experience was limited only to many of his friends warning him about the ‘ambitious mama’s’.

Louis watched the exchange between his father and brother. His cringed inwardly when his brother mentioned the social season in London; much like his father, that was the last thing on Louis’s mind. But there was also the comment Lord Ribble had made about Fredrick’s drinking. Louis wasn’t aware that Lord Ribble knew about that, but it didn’t surprise him either. His father had his sources, that was certain.

Archibald pursed his lips once more. He wasn’t surprised by the line of questioning from his youngest son, but that didn’t make them any less unbecoming. “Margaret’s coming out is quite literally the furthest thing from my mind at present.” Lord Ribble clenched his fist as he spoke. He shifted his gaze towards Louis as if to say to his eldest that Fredrick was his responsibility to keep in line.

Louis sipped his tea, noticing the look his father gave his younger brother. While Louis certainly didn’t condone Fred’s behavior, he thought the current state of affairs, both in London and at Thrushstone, was weighing more heavily on Archibald Battersly than he himself was letting on. A glance at his father, noticing the clenched fist, seemed to confirm this.

“Of course, Father. If the fellows wish to gather, I’m sure I can steer them somewhere appropriate and not to Ribble House,” Louis offered.

Standing from his desk, “We should make sure the staff know who among them is coming with us.” The Marquess began. “We will bring Compton of course, Fitzroy, your Valets, and one of the maids will have to look after Margaret. I’m certain your Grandmama will bring her own maid.” He shook his head to himself and adjusted the stack of blank paper on the edge of the wooden desk. “The Housekeeper in London should have word of our impending arrival by now. I asked that she not make any fuss at our coming.”

Frederick felt like he had been scolded, especially when he spotted his father making a fist with his hand. The look his father shared with his older brother was enough to make him feel smaller still. He had only asked a question. But then it was becoming apparent and had been for a few years to him now, that when you were the ‘spare’ younger son, you were always stacked up unfairly against the elder one and worse still if you didn’t follow in their footsteps. He wasn’t in the military, didn’t have the disposition for it. Further evidence of his uselessness in their eyes.

Suddenly the doors to the Small Library opened and the footman Peter entered. “The Dowager Marchioness my lord.” The unmistakable sound of the elder woman's heeled shoes preceded her entrance.

The Dowager offered a look of thanks to Peter as she strode past him into the room. “I thought this is where I might find you three.” The black veil she wore still cascaded down her back. She made her way into the room, looking quite comfortable in doing so. This was, after all, once her home. “Mary certainly looks in better spirits than when I last saw her.”

Lord Ribble felt a tug at the corner of his mouth. Despite everything going on, it was somewhat comforting to hear that. “Good, good.” He nodded and crossed to one of the sofas near the room’s fireplace. He lowered himself and adjusted his position to be more comfortable. “I think we have much of the details settled. I trust you’ll be bringing your maid mama?”

With her gloved hand, Catherine fiddled with her bustle while seating herself directly across from her son. “I was planning to bring Fletcher, unless you have other ideas?”

Shaking his head, Archibald crossed his legs at the knee. “No, I think that should be fine.” He nodded assuredly at his mother. “I’ll need to arrange the coaches for the morning.” He sounded a bit distant as he spoke.

Hearing the way Archie’s voice had changed, the Dowager Marchioness held her hand up to object to her son. “I’m certain one of the boys can take care of that for you.” She looked for reassurance from her two grandsons. “Boys?”

Louis couldn’t help but smile as his grandmother made her typical entrance. He quickly stood, almost spilling his tea in the process, and once it was understood she was here to speak with his father, he resumed his seat on the sofa. He quickly glanced at his brother, making sure Fred wasn’t too worn-looking. His father’s comment about Fred’s drinking had been rather pointed. Fred had taken it as a commentary on himself from the look of things. But Louis couldn’t help but notice the fact that his father’s winnowing look was also directed at Louis as if to scold Louis for not setting Fred straight. Louis resolved to have a quiet word with Fred…away from Father and everything going on. Not to lecture or scold but to offer support and direction…

Louis finished his tea and set the cup and saucer aside. The last thing he wanted was to come across as another father; that was the last thing that Fred needed. In all honesty, Louis told himself, the poor fellow probably needs a friend right now.
Hearing his grandmother’s cue, Louis turned his attention to the elder Battersly’s.

“Yes, of course, Grandmother,” Louis answered and then turned to his father.

“Freddie….apologies, old boy…old habits and that,” Louis began. “Fred and I shall take care of the matter,” he assured his grandmother. He turned to his brother and nodded expectantly as if to tell Fred to go along.

Fred stood and did some sort of half bow not even thinking. “Father, Grandmama,” he said, following his brother out of the room.

Archibald nodded as his sons left the room. Leaving him and his mother, the Dowager, alone. "So, what do you really make of Mary's condition at present?" The Marquess asked, knowing her previous declaration was made for the sake of the boys.

Catherine shifted slightly on the settee. "Archie," She spoke softly, "She looks as though she is on Death's Doorstep." She looked uncomfortable to make that assertion. "What does the doctor say?"

"Not much." He leaned back somewhat as he spoke. "They cannot seem to make heads or tails of what is really affecting her. Their diagnosis changes nearly once every week." He sounded frustrated as he spoke about his wife's condition, but it was his true feelings on the situation.

"Perhaps having this kind of emotion around her while she's trying to recover is counterproductive." The Dowager Marchioness suggested. "I think that this time away will be good, for both of you, sorrow filled it may be." She rose from her seat and crossed to where Archibald was seated. She placed a hand delicately on her son's shoulder and left it there a moment. Then she turned away from him and rang for a servant.

Within a moment the Footman Peter returned to the library. "How may I help?" He asked.

"Ah Peter, will you have Perkins bring my carriage around. I'll be leaving now." The older woman said with a warm smile to the young man.

"Yes, your ladyship." Peter nodded and turned to go back the way he came.

 

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