The Mingham Air Read online

  Elizabeth Fair

  The Mingham Air

  “The best thing one can say about the Priory is that it would have made a splendid ruin,” she stated. “If only the Seamarks had left it alone . . .”

  Hester Clifford has come to Mingham to recover from pneumonia, at the invitation of her godmother, Cecily Hutton, an eccentric painter with a predilection for ruins. Hester determines to bring order to the Huttons’ easygoing lives, not to mention those of the villagers—including elderly Mrs. Hyde-Ridley, attempting to enforce her Edwardian standards of behaviour, Mrs. Merlin, the Rector’s wife, equally determined to share the joys of country dance with an unenthusiastic parish, and Thomas Seamark, a classic example of the wealthy, brooding widower. Amidst conflict, manipulation, matchmaking, and general hilarity, Hester clearly has her work cut out for her.

  Furrowed Middlebrow is delighted to make available, for the first time in over half a century, all six of Elizabeth Fair’s irresistible comedies of domestic life. These new editions all feature an introduction by Elizabeth Crawford.

  “Miss Fair’s understanding is deeper than Mrs. Thirkell’s and her humour is untouched by snobbishness; she is much nearer to Trollope, grand master in these matters.” STEVIE SMITH

  “Miss Fair makes writing look very easy, and that is the measure of her creative ability.” COMPTON MACKENZIE

  FM19

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page/About the Book

  Contents

  Introduction by Elizabeth Crawford

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  About the Author

  Titles by Elizabeth Fair

  Furrowed Middlebrow Titles

  Bramton Wick – Title Page

  Bramton Wick – Chapter One

  Copyright

  Introduction

  ‘Delicious’ was John Betjeman’s verdict in the Daily Telegraph on Bramton Wick (1952), the first of Elizabeth Fair’s six novels of ‘polite provincial society’, all of which are now republished as Furrowed Middlebrow books. In her witty Daily Express book column (17 April 1952), Nancy Spain characterised Bramton Wick as ‘by Trollope out of Thirkell’ and in John O’London’s Weekly Stevie Smith was another who invoked the creator of the Chronicles of Barsetshire, praising the author’s ‘truly Trollopian air of benign maturity’, while Compton Mackenzie pleased Elizabeth Fair greatly by describing it as ‘humorous in the best tradition of English Humour, and by that I mean Jane Austen’s humour’. The author herself was more prosaic, writing in her diary that Bramton Wick ‘was pretty certain of a sale to lending libraries and devotees of light novels’. She was right; but who was this novelist who, over a brief publishing life, 1952-1960, enjoyed comparison with such eminent predecessors?

  Elizabeth Mary Fair (1908-1997) was born at Haigh, a village on the outskirts of Wigan, Lancashire. Although the village as she described it was ‘totally unpicturesque’, Elizabeth was brought up in distinctly more pleasing surroundings. For the substantial stone-built house in which she was born and in which she lived for her first twenty-six years was ‘Haighlands’, set within the estate of Haigh Hall, one of the several seats of Scotland’s premier earl, the Earl of Crawford and Balcarres. Haigh Hall dates from the 1830s/40s and it is likely that ‘Haighlands’ was built during that time specifically to house the Earl’s estate manager, who, from the first years of the twentieth century until his rather premature death in 1934, was Elizabeth’s father, Arthur Fair. The Fair family was generally prosperous; Arthur Fair’s father had been a successful stockbroker and his mother was the daughter of Edward Rigby, a silk merchant who for a time in the 1850s had lived with his family in Swinton Park, an ancient house much augmented in the 19th century with towers and battlements, set in extensive parkland in the Yorkshire Dales. Portraits of Edward Rigby, his wife, and sister-in law were inherited by Elizabeth Fair, and, having graced her Hampshire bungalow in the 1990s, were singled out for specific mention in her will, evidence of their importance to her. While hanging on the walls of ‘Haighlands’ they surely stimulated an interest in the stories of past generations that helped shape the future novelist’s mental landscape.

  On her mother’s side, Elizabeth Fair was the grand-daughter of Thomas Ratcliffe Ellis, one of Wigan’s leading citizens, a solicitor, and secretary from 1892 until 1921 to the Coalowners’ Association. Wigan was a coal town, the Earl of Crawford owning numerous collieries in the area, and Ratcliffe Ellis, knighted in the 1911 Coronation Honours, played an important part nationally in dealing with the disputes between coal owners and miners that were such a feature of the early 20th century. Although the Ellises were politically Conservative, they were sufficiently liberal-minded as to encourage one daughter, Beth, in her desire to study at Lady Margaret Hall, Oxford. There she took first-class honours in English Literature and went on to write First Impressions of Burmah (1899), dedicated to her father and described by a modern authority as ‘as one of the funniest travel books ever written’. She followed this with seven rollicking tales of 17th/18th-century derring-do. One, Madam, Will You Walk?, was staged by Gerald du Maurier at Wyndham’s Theatre in 1911 and in 1923 a silent film was based on another. Although she died in childbirth when her niece and namesake was only five years old, her presence must surely have lingered not only on the ‘Haighlands’ bookshelves but in family stories told by her sister, Madge Fair. Another much-discussed Ellis connection was Madge’s cousin, (Elizabeth) Lily Brayton, who was one of the early- 20th century’s star actresses, playing the lead role in over 2000 performances of Chu Chin Chow, the musical comedy written by her husband that was such a hit of the London stage during the First World War. Young Elizabeth could hardly help but be interested in the achievements of such intriguing female relations.

  Beth Ellis had, in the late-nineteenth century, been a boarding pupil at a school at New Southgate on the outskirts of London, but both Elizabeth Fair and her sister Helen (1910-1989) were educated by a governess at a time when, after the end of the First World War, it was far less usual than it had been previously to educate daughters at home. Although, in a later short biographical piece, Elizabeth mentioned that she ‘had abandoned her ambition to become an architect’, this may only have been a daydream as there is no evidence that she embarked on any post-schoolroom training. In her novels, however, she certainly demonstrates her interest in architecture, lovingly portraying the cottages, houses, villas, rectories, manors, and mansions that not only shelter her characters from the elements but do so much to delineate their status vis à vis each other. This was an interest of which Nancy Spain had perceptively remarked in her review of Bramton Wick, writing ‘Miss Fair is refreshingly more interested in English landscape and architecture and its subsequent richening effect on English character than she is in social difference of rank, politics, and intellect’. In The Mingham Air (1960) we feel the author shudder with Mrs Hutton at the sight of Mingham Priory, enlarged and restored, ‘All purple and yellow brick, and Victorian plate-glass windows, and a conservatory stuck at one side. A truly vulgar conservatory with a pinnacle.’ Hester, her heroine, had recently been engaged to an architect and, before the engagement was broken, ‘had lovingly submitted to his frequent corrections of her own remarks when they looked at buildings together’. One suspects that Elizabeth Fair was perhaps as a young woman not unfamiliar with being similarly patronised.

  While in The Mingham Air Hester’s ex-fiancé plays an off-stage role, in Seaview House (1955) another architect, Edward Wray, is very much to the fore. It is while he is planning ‘a “select” little seaside place for the well-to-do’ at Caweston on the bracing East Anglian coast that he encounters the inhabitants of ‘Seaview House’. We soon feel quite at home in this draughty ‘private hotel’, its ambience so redolent of the 1950s, where the owners, two middle-aged sisters, Miss Edith Newby and widowed Mrs Rose Barlow, might be found on an off-season evening darning guest towels underneath the gaze of the late Canon Newby, whose portrait ‘looked down at his daughters with a slight sneer’. By way of contrast, life in nearby ‘Crow’s Orchard’, the home of Edward’s godfather, Walter Heritage, whose butler and cook attend to his every needs and where even the hall was ‘thickly curtained, softly lighted and deliciously warm’, could not have been more comfortable.

  Mr Heritage is one of Elizabeth Fair’s specialities, the cosseted bachelor or widower, enjoying a life not dissimilar to that of her two unmarried Ellis uncles who, after the death of their parents, continued to live, tended by numerous servants, at ‘The Hollies’, the imposing Wigan family home. However, not all bachelors are as confirmed as Walter Heritage, for in The Native Heath (1954) another, Francis Heswald, proves himself, despite an inauspicious start, to be of definitely marriageable material. He has let Heswald Hall to the County Educatio
n Authority (in 1947 Haigh Hall had been bought by Wigan Corporation) and has moved from the ancestral home into what had been his bailiff’s house. This was territory very familiar to the author and the geography of this novel, the only one set in the north of England, is clearly modelled on that in which the author grew up, with Goatstock, ‘the native heath’ to which the heroine has returned, being a village close to a manufacturing town that is ‘a by- word for ugliness, dirt and progress’. In fact Seaview House and The Native Heath are the only Elizabeth Fair novels not set in southern England, the region in which she spent the greater part of her life. For after the death of Arthur Fair his widow and daughters moved to Hampshire, closer to Madge’s sister, Dolly, living first in the village of Boldre and then in Brockenhurst. Bramton Wick, Landscape in Sunlight (1953), A Winter Away (1957), and The Mingham Air (1960) are all set in villages in indeterminate southern counties, the topographies of which hint variously at amalgams of Hampshire, Dorset, and Devon.

  Elizabeth Fair’s major break from village life came in 1939 when she joined what was to become the Civil Defence Service, drove ambulances in Southampton through the Blitz, and then in March 1945 went overseas with the Red Cross, working in Belgium, Ceylon, and India. An intermittently-kept diary reveals that by now she was a keen observer of character, describing in detail the background, as she perceived it, of a fellow Red Cross worker who had lived in ‘such a narrow circle, the village, the fringes of the county, nice people but all of a pattern, all thinking on the same lines, reacting in the same way to given stimuli (the evacuees, the petty discomforts of war). So there she was, inexperienced but obstinate, self-confident but stupid, unadaptable, and yet nice. A nice girl, as perhaps I was six years ago, ignorant, arrogant and capable of condescension to inferiors. Such a lot to learn, and I hope she will learn it.’ Clearly Elizabeth Fair felt that her war work had opened her own mind and broadened her horizons and it is hardly surprising that when this came to an end and she returned to village life in Hampshire she felt the need of greater stimulation. It was now that she embarked on novel writing and was successful in being added to the list of Innes Rose, one of London’s leading literary agents, who placed Bramton Wick with Hutchinson & Co. However, as Elizabeth wrote in her diary around the time of publication, ‘it still rankles a little that [the Hutchinson editor] bought Bramton Wick outright though I think it was worth it – to me – since I needed so badly to get started.’

  However, although Hutchinson may have been careful with the money they paid the author, Elizabeth Fair’s diary reveals that they were generous in the amount that was spent on Bramton Wick’s publicity, advertising liberally and commissioning the author’s portrait from Angus McBean, one of the period’s most successful photographers. Witty, elegant, and slightly quizzical, the resulting photograph appeared above a short biographical piece on the dust wrappers of her Hutchinson novels. The designs for these are all charming, that of The Native Heath being the work of a young Shirley Hughes, now the doyenne of children’s book illustrators, with Hutchinson even going to the extra expense of decorating the front cloth boards of that novel and of Landscape in Sunlight with an evocative vignette. Elizabeth Fair did receive royalties on her second and third Hutchinson novels and then on the three she published with Macmillan, and was thrilled when an American publisher acquired the rights to Landscape in Sunlight after she had ‘sent Innes Rose the masterful letter urging to try [the book] in America’. She considered the result ‘the sort of fact one apprehends in a dream’ and relished the new opportunities that now arose for visits to London, confiding in her diary that ‘All these social interludes [are] extremely entertaining, since their talk mirrors a completely new life, new characters, new outlook. How terribly in a rut one gets.’ There is something of an irony in the fact that by writing her novels of ‘country life, lightly done, but delicately observed’ (The Times Literary Supplement, 1 November 1957) Elizabeth Fair was for a time able to enjoy a glimpse of London literary life. But in 1960, after the publication of The Mingham Air, this interlude as an author came to an end. In her diary, which included sketches for scenes never used in the novel-in-hand, Elizabeth Fair had also, most intriguingly, noted ideas for future tales but, if it was ever written, no trace survives of a seventh novel. As it was, she continued to live a quiet Hampshire life for close on another forty years, doubtless still observing and being amused by the foibles of her neighbours.

  Elizabeth Crawford

  Chapter One

  “Come here, Hester,” Mrs. Hutton called. “Come and look at this miserable little picture. Of course it needs cleaning, and I don’t wonder they hung it in a dark corner, but still it does give you the idea.”

  Other visitors to the exhibition turned their heads, and one or two moved towards the dark corner where Mrs. Hutton was telling her goddaughter Hester that this was a view of Mingham Priory, the residence of their local landed proprietor, and must have been done early in the nineteenth century before the place was enlarged and restored.

  “The best thing one can say about the Priory is that it would have made a splendid ruin,” she stated. “If only the Seamarks had left it alone, if only they hadn’t come into all that money, it would have been one of the most picturesque things in the country.”

  “And so handy for you to paint,” said Hester, rather admiring her godmother’s single-mindedness. The Seamarks, for all she cared, could have starved in the ruin’s damp cellars.

  “Yes,” said Mrs. Hutton with a sigh. Painting was her darling hobby, although she had little time for it and no great talent; and the kind of scenes she liked to paint, dramatic landscapes of romantic ruins, did not exist near at hand. “You should see it now,” she remarked, to Hester and the other listeners. “All purple and yellow brick, and Victorian plate-glass windows, and a conservatory stuck on at one side. A truly vulgar conservatory with a pinnacle.”

  Hester tried to picture it, and a man standing a few feet away glanced coldly at Mrs. Hutton as if he would have liked to correct her. Hester thought he was perhaps an architect revolted by the inaccuracy of her description, for conservatories do not have pinnacles and architects are apt to be scornful of laymen’s blunders; she knew this because she had been engaged to an architect, and had lovingly submitted to his frequent corrections of her own remarks when they looked at buildings together. But that was all in the past, the engagement broken off last year had become a thing she could think about without always thinking her heart was broken too; and she could discuss architecture quite calmly, though probably inaccurately, with her godmother, without feeling it to be a painful subject.

  To prove this she asked whether the purple and yellow brick restoration had entirely hidden the older Priory of the drawing; and her godmother explained that it had hidden all but the side that faced the river, and that was spoilt by the ridiculous terraced garden which the late proprietor had constructed about twenty-five years ago, just after she and Bennet had come to live at The End House. It was the year Derek was born and she had been ill all the summer, or at least poorly, and so she had seldom visited the Priory but she could just remember how much better it had looked before the terraces were built, when the ground sloped gently to the river as nature had intended it.

  “Old Mr. Seamark had no taste,” she said. “None of them have. His grandfather built the brick part and they’ve gone on admiring it ever since. Thomas Seamark is just as bad as his ancestors. Poor thing.”

  Hester had only just arrived at The End House and knew nothing about Thomas Seamark, so she could not guess why he was an object of pity. But from her godmother’s description of the Priory she felt that his hereditary lack of taste might rank as a crowning mercy.

  “Then he won’t mind about the pinnacle,” she said, deliberately aiming the word at the back of the putative architect, who was still lingering within earshot while pretending to admire a case of miniatures. She fancied that the back gave a shudder, and was certain of it when Mrs. Hutton replied that Thomas Seamark would probably like to add a few turrets to the up-and-down roof along the front.