Six inches deep in mud
Mr. Evans was a muggle, and his chanceful marriage to Mrs. Evans, née Galdwyn, had occurred only thanks to the woman’s initiative, who, having found an attractive distraction in the once-handsome man, had married him rather impulsively, thus having to give up her aspirations to greater blood purity and – an inconvenience she would only ponder about later in life – the distinctive quality of rank for her daughters. Eloped with Mr. Evans in an attempt to revitalize her life, Mrs. Evans had also been accused, though perhaps maliciously by her envious sister, of having drugged the modest nobleman with a low-quality love potion (never the woman’s finer talent) which she had foolishly attempted to brew. Whatever the circumstances may have been, the couple was forced to settle down in Mr. Evan’s property in Hertfordshire, he with an estate of two thousand a year, she with a respectable dowry.
The matrimony had turned pleasant, and the bond amicable, although for the mild and sarcastic temper of Mr. Evans, living in a family of potential wizards had proven a non indifferent challenge.
Unfortunately for the couple, Mrs. Evans had only given birth to daughters, and the estate on which they dwelled, by means of the British (and magical) Ius Salis, was entailed, in default of heirs male, on a distant relation; and Mrs. Evan’s fortune, though ample for her situation in life, when it came to her daughters could but ill supply the deficiency of his. Her father had been an attorney in Myrthvale, and had left her one thousand Galleons.
She had a sister married to a Mr. Pettigrew, a Pureblood wizard from a family outside of the sacred twenty-eight, but who had been able to attend the School of Hogwarts by means of a concession from the Institution. With such a creditable diploma, he had therefore been able to work as a clerk to the elder Mr. Galdwyn, and had then succeeded him in the business of attorneyship. The sisters’ brother, Mr. Edward Galdwyn, also Hogwarts-educated, had settled in London in a respectable line of trade.
The village of Sylvanbourn was only one mile from Myrthvale; a most convenient distance for the young ladies, who were usually tempted thither three or four times a week, to pay their duty to their aunt and to a milliner’s shop just over the way. The two youngest of the family, Violet and Heather, were particularly frequent in these attentions; their minds were more vacant than their sisters’, and when nothing better offered, a walk to Myrthvale was necessary to amuse their morning hours and furnish conversation for the evening; and however bare of news the country in general might be, they always contrived to learn some from their aunt. At present, indeed, they were well supplied both with news and happiness by the recent arrival of a muggle militia regiment in the neighbourhood; it was to remain the whole winter, and Myrthvale was the headquarters.
Their visits to Mrs. Pettigrew were now productive of the most interesting intelligence. Every day added something to their knowledge of the officers’ names and connections. Their lodgings were not long a secret, and at length they began to know the officers themselves. Mr. Pettigrew visited them all, and this opened to his nieces a store of felicity unknown before. They could talk of nothing but officers; and Mr. Black’s large fortune, the mention of which gave animation to their mother, was worthless in their eyes when opposed to the regimentals of an ensign.
After listening one morning to their effusions on this subject, Mr. Evans coolly observed:
‘From all that I can collect by your manner of talking, you must be two of the silliest girls in the country. I have suspected it some time, but I am now convinced.’
Violet was disconcerted, and made no answer; but Heather, with perfect indifference, continued to express her admiration of Captain Avery – making small buds spring from the dining room’s unkept fissures – and her hope of seeing him in the course of the day, as he was going the next morning to London.
‘I am astonished, my dear,’ said Mrs. Evans, ‘that you should be so ready to think your own children silly. If I wished to think slightingly of anybody’s children, it should not be of my own, however.’
‘If my children are silly, I must hope to be always sensible of it.’
‘Yes–but as it happens, they are all of them very clever.’
‘This is the only point, I flatter myself, on which we do not agree. I had hoped that our sentiments coincided in every particular, but I must so far differ from you as to think our two youngest daughters uncommonly foolish.’
‘My dear Mr. Evans, you must not expect such girls to have the sense of their father and mother. When they get to our age, I dare say they will not think about muggle officers any more than we do. I remember the time when I liked a red coat myself very well–and, indeed, so I do still at my heart; and if a smart young colonel, with five or six thousand a year, should want one of my girls I shall not say nay to him; and I thought Colonel Longbottom looked very becoming the other night at Sir William’s in his regimentals.’
‘Mamma,’ cried Heather, ‘my aunt says that Colonel Longbottom and Captain Avery do not go so often to Miss Meadows’ as they did when they first came; she sees them now very often standing in Avery’s library.’
Mrs. Evans was prevented replying by the entrance of the footman with a note for Miss Evans; it came from Netherthorn, and the servant waited for an answer. Mrs. Evans’s eyes sparkled with pleasure, and she was eagerly calling out, while her daughter read,
‘Well, Daisy, who is it from? What is it about? What does he say? Well, Daisy, make haste and tell us; make haste, my love.’
‘It is from Miss Black,’ said Daisy, and then read it aloud.
‘My dear friend,–
‘If you are not so compassionate as to dine to-day with Bella and me, we shall be in danger of hating each other for the rest of our lives, for a whole day’s tete-a-tete between two women can never end without a quarrel. Come as soon as you can on receipt of this. My brother and the gentlemen are to dine with the officers.–Yours ever,
‘Narcissa Black’
‘With the officers!’ cried Heather. ‘I wonder my aunt did not tell us of that.’
‘Dining out,’ said Mrs. Evans, ‘that is very unlucky.’
‘Can I have the carriage?’ said Daisy.
‘No, my dear, you had better go on horseback, because it seems likely to rain; and then you must stay all night.’
‘That would be a good scheme,’ said Lily, ‘if you were sure that they would not offer to send her home.’
‘Oh! but the gentlemen will have Mr. Black’s Thestral chaise to go to Myrthvale, and the Lestranges have no horses to theirs.’
‘I had much rather go in the coach.’
‘But, my dear, your father cannot spare the horses, I am sure. They are wanted in the farm, Mr. Evans, are they not?’
‘They are wanted in the farm much oftener than I can get them.’
‘But if you have got them to-day,’ said Lily, ‘my mother’s purpose will be answered.’
She did at last extort from her father an acknowledgment that the horses were engaged. Daisy was therefore obliged to go on horseback, and her mother attended her to the door with many cheerful prognostics of a bad day. Her hopes were answered; Daisy had not been gone long before it rained hard. Her sisters were uneasy for her, but her mother was delighted. The rain continued the whole evening without intermission; Daisy certainly could not come back.
‘This was a lucky idea of mine, indeed!’ said Mrs. Evans more than once, as if the credit of making it rain were all her own. Till the next morning, however, she was not aware of all the felicity of her contrivance. Breakfast was scarcely over when a servant from Netherthorn brought the following note for Lily:
‘My dearestLily,–
‘I find myself very unwell this morning, which, I suppose, is to be imputed to my getting wet through yesterday. My kind friends will not hear of my returning till I am better. They insist also on my seeing Mr. Pomfrey, the Healer–therefore do not be alarmed if you should hear of his having been to me–and, excepting a sore throat and headache, there is not much the matter with me.–Yours, etc.’
‘Well, my dear,’ said Mr. Evans, when Lily had read the note aloud, ‘if your daughter should have a dangerous fit of illness–if she should die, it would be a comfort to know that it was all in pursuit of the noble Mr. Black, and under your orders.’
‘Oh! I am not afraid of her dying. People do not die of little trifling colds. She will be taken good care of. As long as she stays there, it is all very well. I would go and see her if I could have the carriage.’
Lily, feeling really anxious, was determined to go to her, though the carriage was not to be had; and as she was no horsewoman, walking was her only alternative. She declared her resolution.
‘How can you be so silly,’ cried her mother, ‘as to think of such a thing, in all this dirt! You will not be fit to be seen when you get there.’
‘I shall be very fit to see Daisy–which is all I want.’
‘Is this a hint to me, Lily,’ said her father, ‘to send for the horses?’
‘No, indeed, I do not wish to avoid the walk. The distance is nothing when one has a motive; only three miles. I shall be back by dinner.’
‘I admire the activity of your benevolence,’ observed Petunia, ‘but every impulse of feeling should be guided by reason; and, in my opinion, exertion should always be in proportion to what is required.’
‘We will go as far as Myrthvale with you,’ said Violet and Heather. Lily accepted their company, and the three young ladies set off together.
‘If we make haste,’ said Heather, as they walked along, ‘perhaps we may see something of Captain Carter before he goes.’
In Myrthvale they parted; the two youngest repaired to the lodgings of one of the officers’ wives, and Lily continued her walk alone, crossing field after field at a quick pace, jumping over stiles and springing over puddles with impatient activity, and finding herself at last within view of the house, with weary ankles, dirty stockings, and a face glowing with the warmth of exercise.
She was shown into the breakfast-parlour, where all but Daisy were assembled, and where her appearance created a great deal of surprise. That she should have walked three miles so early in the day, in such dirty weather, and by herself, was almost incredible to Mrs. Lestrange and Miss Black; and Lily was convinced that they held her in contempt for it. She was received, however, very politely by them; and in their brother’s manners there was something better than politeness; there was good humour and kindness. Mr. Potter said very little, and Mr. Lestrange nothing at all. The former was divided between admiration of the brilliancy which exercise had given to her complexion, and doubt as to the occasion’s justifying her coming so far alone. The latter was thinking only of his breakfast.
Her inquiries after her sister were not very favourably answered. Miss Evans had slept ill, and though up, was very feverish, and not well enough to leave her room. Lily was glad to be taken to her immediately; and Daisy, who had only been withheld by the fear of giving alarm or inconvenience from expressing in her note how much she longed for such a visit, was delighted at her entrance. She was not equal, however, to much conversation, and when Miss Black left them together, could attempt little besides expressions of gratitude for the extraordinary kindness she was treated with. Lily silently attended her.
When breakfast was over they were joined by the sisters; and Lily began to like them herself, when she saw how much affection and solicitude they showed for Daisy. The Healer came, and having examined his patient, said, as might be supposed, that she had caught a violent cold, and that they must endeavour to get the better of it; advised her to return to bed, and promised her some draughts. The advice was followed readily, for the feverish symptoms increased, and her head ached acutely. Lily did not quit her room for a moment; nor were the other ladies often absent; the gentlemen being out, they had, in fact, nothing to do elsewhere.
When the clock struck three, Lily felt that she must go, and very unwillingly said so. Miss Black offered her the carriage, and she only wanted a little pressing to accept it, when Daisy testified such concern in parting with her, that Miss Black was obliged to convert the offer of the chaise to an invitation to remain at Netherthorn for the present. Lily most thankfully consented, and a servant was dispatched to Sylvanbourn to acquaint the family with her stay and bring back a supply of clothes.