The Montforts by Martin Boyd

Author:Martin Boyd
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ligature Pty Limited
Published: 2021-11-12T20:24:16+00:00

16

The six months allotted for the testing and, it was hoped, the abating of Dora’s affections, went by, but left her as determined as ever. Fred Riley came once more to see Sim, and was asked to stay at Bemerton so that he might be inspected at close quarters.

Two things were in Fred Riley’s favour. One was that he was a ‘horsey’ man and showed no boredom during a morning spent with Sim in the paddocks and the stableyard. The other was that Matty, Sam’s second daughter, had become engaged to a struggling young farmer, who had emigrated from a clerkship in Clapham three years earlier. This gave Sim a shock. He saw what was possible in the way of sons-in-law. He had a special code of eligibility. An Australian might have a drawl or a twang, be somewhat rough in appearance and still be a gentleman and a possible son-in-law. His little peculiarities were due to his being an Australian. But in an Englishman no peculiarities were allowed. He must be ‘out of the top-draw,’ with pedigree, manners, and clothes complete.

Theresa had once said to him:

‘Of course, you have no aristocracy in your country.’

‘We are the aristocracy of our country,’ he had replied, quietly savage at what he considered an affront.

It was possible that Dora might, as Matty had done, pick up with some wretched, pale, lower middle-class emigrant, who could not ride or shoot, and who had none of the tastes nor experiences of a gentleman. And, after all, Kiley, although he was a bounder, did know good horses and good wine, and he had a thousand a year; and nobody had any money, nowadays.

Sim, after a consultation with Jane, granted his consent.

Riley was distinctly an ‘impinger,’ and it was as well that Dora should marry one of this predatory class. He would be the more likely to guard her interests. The possibility of Dora’s being the ‘impingee’ did not occur to Sim.

Fred and Dora were married at All Saints’, St. Kilda, the family church. Mary Montfort, Harry’s daughter, was the only bridesmaid. It was the first occasion of the gathering of the clan since Sim’s return from England. They still made a good appearance. In the front row, with Sim and Jane, were Harry and his wife, Sophie and Letitia. Sophie and Letitia, two rival matriarchs, arrived together. Sophie, short, compact, and upright, clad in black velvet, with heavy gold brooches, walked up the church with Sam. She darted sharp bright glances from under her bushy eyebrows. The short hairs of a faint sparse beard protruded through her veil.

Letitia was frailer. She was dressed somewhat in the style of Queen Victoria, in black silk, and black and white crêpe. She leaned on Arthur’s arm, and walked with an ebony cane. Her memory was failing. All her generation had gone. Doña Brigid had died in 1887. Sophie only was left, and though she visited her for old times’ sake, she was never very friendly. They sat contradicting each other for an hour or so, and then Letitia would drive away.

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