‘And how do you propose to travel?’
‘I’ll take the train to Dover, sir, and then packet. I’ve had a look at Bradshaw and there’s trains all the way to this St Etienne place. I’m instructed to bring his large valise and trunk, so if I may ask Fortune to drive me to the station in the trap, that will set me on my way. With luck it should only take me two or three days to get there.’
‘I see.’ Sir Philip, though used to trains, had been born into an age where there was no network of railways and still felt more comfortable in a coach. ‘Only three days. Well, if you’re setting out tomorrow, Parker, make sure you come and collect a letter for Mr Rupert before you go.’
Parker promised he would and went up to Rupert’s rooms to gather together the clothes he knew his master would want. Since Rupert had gone, Tess the laundry maid who came in from the village had washed and brushed all the clothes he had left behind and they were all clean, pressed and ready for Parker to fold into the trunk. The various sundries, boots, hats and gloves were packed into the valise. That evening he was summoned to Lady Chalfont’s parlour, where she demanded that he repeat yet again the information he had about Rupert.
‘And before you leave in the morning I shall have a letter for you to deliver to Mr Rupert.’
At supper that evening, served in the kitchen once the family had been fed, Parker heard all about Mary Dawson and her expected baby.
‘Such a furore it caused when Dawson found out,’ Mitchell said. ‘Insisted that Mr Rupert was the father, but finally had to admit that he didn’t know who it was.’
‘If that baby is due when they say,’ put in Mrs Darwin, ‘it couldn’t have been Mr Rupert what fathered it. He was staying up in Leicestershire somewhere hunting foxes last autumn.’
‘Well, you women are the ones what keeps track of those sorts of things,’ Mitchell said dismissively. ‘All I know is, Dawson’s had to back down. Could have lost his place if he kept on saying it was Mr Rupert.’
‘Well, now she’s marrying Fred Brooks from over Heathfield way,’ said Mrs Darwin. ‘Silly girl should have said straight out it were him, ’stead of pretending. He’s been sweet on her since she were nobbut a girl. Reckon he wants to marry her, whether ’tis his babby or no; and a good thing too, if you asks me, before she gets herself into more trouble.’
Gradually Parker caught up with all the gossip he’d missed since his father died. Mr Rupert would want to know all that had been going on while he was away, not just what his pa and ma decided to tell him. Even Mr Justin might not tell all, though, thought Parker; Mr Rupert’ll be more than interested that Mr Justin has finally offered for Miss Kitty. Once they started a family, that would be an end to any thoughts Mr Rupert might have had about inheriting his pa’s title. He’d always said he didn’t want it, that his brother was welcome to it, but Parker wasn’t so sure. When it came down to it, Mr Rupert might regret its loss.
By the time he and Fortune lifted the trunk and the valise into the trap, Parker was carrying three letters to his master. All, he thought, probably telling him the same news, but all with a different slant on things. As they were about to leave, Miss Frances came running out of the house and waved at Fortune to wait.
‘Thank goodness I caught you, Parker. Please will you take this letter to my brother? Tell him all is well here and give him my love.’
‘Of course, Miss Frances,’ he replied, and taking the letter, he stowed it with the others in the wallet he carried strapped to his waist. ‘I’ll give it to him as soon as I get there. I know he’ll be eager for news from home.’ It took Parker longer than he had anticipated to travel from the West Country to the port of Dover, and after a rather bumpy crossing to Calais, where he spent a night at an inn, he caught the train to Paris. He reached St Etienne in the early evening and found a carrier to transport the luggage to its destination at Le Coq d’Argent. When he reached the inn he discovered that Rupert was out, but he took another room and had the trunk and valise carried up there. Then he walked out into the Place, found himself a cheap café and had something to eat. It was a warm summer evening and he lingered over an extra glass of wine before turning his steps back to Le Coq d’Argent. As he walked towards the front door, a chaise drew up outside and Parker saw the familiar figure of Rupert Chalfont step down into the street.
Rupert caught sight of him and paused on the threshold.
‘Parker!’ he cried. ‘You’re here. Have you brought my traps? We may be here for a longish stay.’
‘Yes, sir. As you weren’t here, Mr Rupert, I took the liberty of taking another room here at the inn and had your luggage placed safely in there while I went out to get something to eat.’
‘Good man,’ replied Rupert. ‘Let’s get it moved to my rooms and see what you’ve brought.’
A porter was called and within minutes the heavy cases were brought down from the room on the third floor that had been assigned to the gentleman’s gentleman and carried into the suite hired by the gentleman himself.
Rupert flung himself down onto an armchair and watched as Parker opened the trunk and began to unpack the clothes he’d brought, hanging them in the ornate armoire in the corner of the room.
‘So, Parker, tell all! What news from the old homestead?’
‘I’ve brought you letters, sir,’ Parker replied. ‘From Sir Philip, Lady Chalfont and Mr Justin. Oh, and Miss Frances.’
‘I’m sure you have, Parker, and I’ll read them in a while, but you can tell me the news, the real news seen through the eyes of the kitchen!’
‘What do you want to know, sir?’
‘Well, let me see.’ Rupert gazed up at the ceiling as if in search of inspiration, then turning again to Parker asked, his expression serious, ‘How’s Mary Dawson these days?’
For a moment Parker stared at him in horror and then, catching the flicker of a grin in Rupert’s eyes, relaxed to answer calmly.
‘I believe she’s getting married, sir.’
‘That’s good to hear,’ Rupert said cheerfully. ‘I’m all in favour of marriage!’
‘In that case, sir, I think you’d better read your letters before I pass on news that isn’t mine to share.’
The laughter left Rupert’s eyes, and holding out his hand, he said, ‘Hand them over then and let me know the worst.’
He opened Justin’s letter first, scanning it quickly and then going back to read it more carefully.
My dear Rupert
So you got to France, and I imagine, since you have sent for Parker, that you are having an enjoyable time with your friends there and are planning a lengthy stay. However, I have news that I hope will bring you home again before very long. Kitty and I are to be married in the early autumn and of course I need you here with me to stand as my best man. We have set the date for Friday 21st September, so we shall expect you back well before that date to join in the celebrations of our happiness.
Mother is now all of a fluster making wedding plans with the Blakes. We’re to be married in the village church, of course, and then the Blakes are giving the wedding breakfast at Marwick House. It looks as if they’re inviting half the county!
Otherwise, things go on here much as usual. The question of Mary Dawson and the baby has been resolved. She is to be married after the banns have been called to Fred Brooks. He’s the blacksmith over at Heathfield and has accepted paternity for the child. Goodness knows if it is truly his, but both he and Mary seem happy enough with the plan and it saves face for everyone… you included?
The fishing looks good this year, there are plenty of trout about and even some salmon coming up river, so you’re missing a treat. Dawson says it’s the best year for some time, so I’m hoping for some big fish!
We all miss you here and look forward to your homecoming, especially now that you have something special to come home for.
Wish me joy, Rupert,
Your affectionate brother
Justin
‘So,’ Rupert said, looking up fr
om the letter at last, ‘my brother is to be married. I’m glad. I’d given up hope of him ever asking poor Kitty. I think they’ll do very well together.’
There was no sign of sadness or disappointment at the news, so Parker thought that perhaps Miss Kitty’s affection for Mr Rupert had been one-sided after all.
Rupert opened the other letters and read them through. They told him little more of what was going on at home, though Fran’s comments about Kitty and the wedding shed a bit more light on the matter.
Kitty seems happy enough with the arrangement and clearly it is a very suitable marriage. I’m to be bridesmaid! Can you imagine me in a new silk gown and an elegant hat?
Mama has sent for a dressmaker from Bristol to fabricate the frills and furbelows, so she and I shall be the height of fashion. What will you wear as best man, I wonder? No doubt Mama will decide for you when you get home.
We miss you, Rupert. Well, I do, anyway. It’s no fun getting into scrapes without you.
Papa has not been well lately and Mama is relying on me more and more about household matters. They’re suddenly older, Rupert. Don’t leave it too long before you come home again.
Your loving sister, Fran
Rupert turned to Parker. ‘How were my parents, Parker? Did you find them well?’
‘Well enough, sir, though I thought Sir Philip a little aged since I saw him last. Your mother seemed much as always, but that is how she presents herself to the world.’
‘You mean you never know quite what is in her mind? Well, neither do I.’
Rupert folded the letters back into their envelopes. ‘It’s time we were in bed,’ he said. ‘You must be tired after your journey and I shall do very well by myself tonight, but I shall want you first thing in the morning.’
Later, as he lay in bed, Rupert considered the news Parker had brought with him. Justin marrying Kitty at last. Well, that was good, wasn’t it? There had been a time when he and Kitty had wanted their friendship to progress further, but they both knew that Sir James would want a better match for his only child. The younger son of a baronet, however well-bred, would not do, especially as there was an extremely eligible elder son in the same family, the son who would inherit the estate which marched with his own. Rupert had remained fond of Kitty, but he had walked away from Pilgrim’s Oak to travel the world, leaving Kitty behind in Somerset.
Now, with Hélène filling his mind, he knew that what he had felt for Kitty was a pale shadow of his feelings for Hélène. It had happened so quickly, completely out of the blue, but despite the speed of his headlong fall into love, he had never felt more sure of anything in his life. Tomorrow he would go to Emile St Clair and ask for permission to address her. He longed to claim her before the world, but he also recognised that she hardly knew him and was very young to be committing herself to any man, let alone one so recently encountered. He remembered how she had confided in him, how she had responded to his kindness, how she had blushed when he paid her a compliment, most of all how she had felt in his arms as they had danced. None of these things necessarily indicated that she felt anything out of the ordinary for him, but he could always hope that, in time, she might come to feel about him as he felt about her – that they should spend the rest of their lives together.
Rupert, being Rupert, did not consider what he would do if Emile St Clair refused his permission.
Chapter 23
Rupert presented himself at Belair at exactly twelve noon and was greeted by Didier, who said, ‘Monsieur St Clair is expecting you, sir,’ took his hat and gloves and escorted him to Emile’s private study.
He knocked and opened the door, announcing, ‘Monsieur Chalfont.’
Emile, who had been standing beside a large flat-topped desk studying the papers spread out upon it, turned and greeted Rupert with a smile and an extended hand.
‘Good day, m’sieur, I trust I see you well.’
‘Very well, thank you, sir,’ Rupert replied.
‘May I offer you a glass of something? Wine? Brandy?’
‘No, I thank you, sir.’
Emile nodded to Didier, who had been hovering in the doorway. ‘That’ll be all, Didier.’
As the door closed behind the butler, Emile took a seat on a chair by the open window and indicated another to Rupert.
Rupert sat down and Emile said, ‘Well, Monsieur Chalfont, how may I help you?’
Rupert had tried out several openings in his room that morning, but now he was sitting opposite Emile, somehow the prepared words deserted him. He stood up again and took a couple of paces across the room before turning back and saying, ‘I know we are only recently acquainted, m’sieur, but I have come to ask if I may pay my addresses to Mademoiselle Hélène.’ There! It was said.
Emile looked startled. ‘Hélène?’ he said. ‘But she’s only a child. Only just out of the schoolroom.’
‘Only just out of the schoolroom,’ agreed Rupert, ‘but surely no longer a child.’
‘Perhaps.’ Emile was getting over his immediate surprise. ‘But she is still very young, scarcely ready for marriage – and I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that, with respect, we know nothing of you or your family. You are a foreigner, an Englishman, unknown to us all.’
‘I admit to all of those things,’ Rupert said, a touch ruefully, ‘but surely they can all be addressed. I can answer any questions you would like to ask. May I tell you straight away that my father, Sir Philip Chalfont, is a baronet. The title is hereditary and one day—’
‘You will inherit it?’ interrupted Emile.
‘No, sir. My brother Justin will inherit; I am the younger by two hours. But one day I shall come into an inheritance on my mother’s side. In the meantime I am well enough supplied to support a wife and an establishment of my own. If your daughter accepted my suit, she would be well provided for.’
Emile looked at Rupert with great suspicion. ‘No doubt somebody has told you that on her marriage Hélène will inherit an annuity from her maternal grandmother. Perhaps it is this that has made you dare to ask for her hand.’
Rupert looked Emile firmly in the eye and said, ‘It has been mentioned to me, and I am sure that it is common knowledge hereabouts, but at present I am not asking for your daughter’s hand. I am only asking your permission to address her, so that we may become properly acquainted, and I hope eventually come to an understanding. Should that happen and we became engaged to be married, I should have no interest in Hélène’s money. I give you my word, it will be hers and hers alone to do with as she wishes.’
‘So you say now,’ remarked Emile.
‘So I say now, and so I shall say then.’
Having his given word doubted gave Rupert’s tone a coolness that was not lost on Emile, who took a metaphorical step back, saying, ‘I don’t doubt your intention, sir, but this is all too quick.’
‘Which is why I am asking you if I may come and visit Hélène, become her friend, let her get to know me before I ask for her hand. I would not want an unwilling bride.’
‘And you will not have one,’ Emile said sharply. Then he sighed and said, ‘Do sit down again, m’sieur, and let us speak man to man.’
Rupert did as he was asked, sitting back into the chair opposite Emile.
‘You must look at things from a father’s point of view,’ Emile said. ‘You are a man of the world, you must be at least thirty and my daughter is only seventeen. What does she know of men and marriage? She is hardly out into society, has had little chance of meeting other gentlemen. She will remain here at Belair in the care of her family, and when a suitable man asks for her, then I shall consider my answer.’
‘And you do not consider me suitable?’ Rupert was not prepared to give up.
‘I do not know you well enough to say,’ replied Emile. ‘Perhaps you are, perhaps you are not, but either way she is too young and too inexperienced in the world for a commitment now.’
‘Then I am prepared to wait for her,’ said Rupert, ‘for as long as
it takes. All I am asking you for is that she have a chance to get to know me.’
Emile shook his head as if confused. ‘It is not something I can decide on the spur of the moment,’ he said. ‘I will give it some thought and I will tell you my decision when I have made it. Call on me again tomorrow. But before you go I will ask just one further question of you, Monsieur Chalfont. If you are not interested in her money and you are in a position to marry and provide for a wife, why have you not already done so?’
Rupert gave a wry smile. ‘Because, m’sieur, I have never fallen in love before.’
*
When Rupert had gone, Emile went in search of Rosalie. She was in her parlour writing letters, but when he came into the room she put down her pen and said, ‘Was that Monsieur Chalfont I saw leaving just now? Would he not stay for luncheon?’
‘I did not ask him,’ replied her husband. ‘He came to discuss something with me and now he has gone.’
Rosalie had learned from long experience that if she wanted Emile to tell her something, she should not actually ask him. Now she wanted to know why Rupert Chalfont had called and why he had left without speaking to anyone other than Emile.
She said, ‘He’s a charming young man, don’t you think? So unassuming and with such good manners.’
‘Well, I agree he seems that way, but appearances can be deceptive, can’t they? We don’t know the man, after all. Indeed, I don’t think the Barrineaux do either. He was invited to the wedding by young Lucas, and you may remember Suzanne wasn’t best pleased. For all we know he’s an adventurer out for what he can get.’
‘Out for what he can get?’ echoed Rosalie. ‘A harsh judgement, Emile. What makes you say so? You hardly know the man.’
‘Exactly,’ said Emile. ‘We hardly know him and here he is coming to ask for Hélène.’
‘Ask for Hélène?’ Rosalie looked startled.
‘Ask my permission to address her.’
‘And did you give it?’
‘No,’ snapped her husband.
The French Wife Page 19
