"Memoirs of the Hartley Family of Bingley and Staveley,  Yorkshire"
by Minnie Growse (1864-1939),

Foreward
Introduction
Page 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16
Low Hall
Notes
Hartley, Staveley
Hartley, Bingley

memoirs Continued 5

Farsyde-Watsons

I have I fear digressed from Madam Watson and Aunt Chris, and Aunt Char,  Take my eyes of fancy and see what    so often Aunt Chris must have seen - though the costumes may not be quite correct.

First the great barouche comes lumbering up the drive of Bilton Hall and into it gets Aunt Watson, who as chief lady, heads the procession up the aisle of Knaresborough Church, resplendent in huge bonnet and flaring real lace veil, and nodding plumes - tall and dignified.  Following her comes Aunt Chris.  (Alas her pretty miniature passed into wrong hands as did others by a mistake in my cousin's will.) Aunt Chris is smaller and prettier.  She trips along by Aunt Watson's side till they come to the big pew with the huge escutcheons of the Farsyde-Watsons (which remain till this day) hanging over the pew.  Aunt Char. brings up the rear.  How pretty she must have been.  Her exquisite complexion, which she kept to her dying day in her ninetieth year. Delicately she walks on those lovely feet so tiny and slender.  Her bright fair curls moving as she walked.  Her face subdued and devotional, for was she not a rector's daughter?  A long long service begins.  Aunt Char's thoughts wander far, far away - Would the aunt's give her a treat?  Was there a ball at the Queen's in prospect?  While she was dreaming her dreams the droning voice of the vicar ceases, and the service is over.

Aunt Chris generally carries a long ebony stick on Sundays with an ivory top, and a servant carries her huge prayer book and probably a fan to revive her in the heat.  Today she follows her stately sister to the barouche, at the door of which stands Sir Thomas Slingsby, witty and debonair with his hat always in his hand till he finishes talking to the laides.  They chat and laugh and Sir Thomas flits round them, handing them gallantly for he is indeed a ladies' man and, if tales be true, a bit of a roue.  The elderly ladies are safe inside and warmly packed up.  "Now Charley" says Sir Thomas "In you get, let me help you though you know I am really not going to marry you."  "Nobody asked you Sir Thomas.  Certainly I did not - and I don't want any help, thank you." With that Aunt Char. picks up her skirts and bounds in - of course, quite by accident a big piece of slender ankle is seen (shame, shame Charlotte) the whip is cracked, the last compliment paid, and with a flutter of fans and a waving of  plumes, away lumbers the barouche to Bilton Hall again.

 Sir Thomas stands thoughtfully on the pavement, adjusts his great stock.  all that is left to him is a vision of Charley's wee feet, wonderful complexion and glinting curls.  well shall he always remain a bachelor.  He did, and who knows what joys he lost.

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