“No lingering,” Ran whispered to Ger. “Let us get inside as quick as may be.”
He nodded and, with a quick smile and a wave to the assembled servants, he ushered Ginny up the steps, with Ran following. He only caught glimpses of Ginny’s face, but she seemed composed, even happy. She was smiling at the senior staff on the upper steps. Then they were through the door and into the entrance hall, where Ran drew up in horror. The hall was built on an imposing scale, but even so it was filled to capacity. As if the servants were not enough, now they had to face the assembled ranks of the Litherholm family. Every relation with the slightest claim had come to welcome home the lost Duke of Falconbury.
Ger stopped dead, his face aghast. To one side of the hall, the indoor servants were now filing back to form a long line, all watching with avid interest. On the other side, some sixty or more aunts, uncles, cousins and assorted in-laws beamed in delight, their voices rising in a chorus of welcome.
“No,” Ger whispered. “Not now. Get rid of them, Ran! Get them out of this house, now!”
And with that he gripped Ginny firmly by the hand, marched straight past the assembled masses and up the stairs.
12: The State Banqueting Room
The outraged voices rose to a cacophony. “Well, that was most uncivil, when we have come all this way to greet him!” said one aunt.
“Who is that woman?” another said pointedly. “Is he married?”
With a slight jerk of his head, Ran dismissed the servants, who scuttled away to the nether parts of the house. The relations were more difficult to shift. The gentlemen included at least seven peers of the realm and none of them, of either sex, were likely to leave merely because he asked them to. Many of them had grown up at Valmont, and they were all accustomed to spend several weeks each summer at the family seat, with shooting in the autumn for those who wished it. They were family, and it was inconceivable to any of them that Ger would not be thrilled by their presence.
Whatever was to be done with them, it was certain that nothing could be achieved so late in the day. Ran smiled benignly. “Let us go back to— where were you sitting? The Queen’s Room? Then let us go there and I shall tell you all.”
Since this was what they most wished for, there was no resistance to the idea. They drifted through the Grand Saloon and past the Winter Court into the Queen’s Room, which overlooked the gardens. Tea things and trays of cakes and pastries were already laid out, and every surface laden with discarded plates, cups of tea and half-drunk glasses of Madeira. Brent and two footmen were already hard at work replenishing supplies. The explanations had to wait until the servants withdrew, Ran closed the door firmly and turned to his expectant audience.
“I beg your pardon, everyone, but you will appreciate that Ger has had a difficult journey to make. He was badly injured in the wreck of the Brig Minerva and his memory was affected. It has not been easy for him to accept that he must return here.”
“Yes, yes, but who is the young woman with him? He has not married someone unsuitable, I trust?”
That was Aunt Anne’s voice, but he saw the same anxious looks all around him.
“Ger is not married.” A little sigh of relief ran round the room. “The lady is Miss Chandry, daughter of Mr Patrick Chandry of Pendower House in Cornwall. The Chandrys are the principal family of Pendower.” Not that that was saying a great deal, but the assembly would not know that. “Miss Chandry was the person who rescued Ger from the sea and nursed him back to health. We all owe her a great debt. She is here as Ger’s guest.”
There! He had told the story they had agreed upon, and they could make of it what they would. He did not suppose they would be satisfied, and he was right. They peppered him with questions and interrupted his answers and talked across each other until his head was spinning. His throat burned from repeating the same trite words a hundred times. But eventually the dressing bell sounded and there was a general movement towards the stairs.
Ran took the opportunity to slip away to find Max. He located him in the butler’s pantry, in harassed conference with Mrs Newall, the housekeeper. After a rapid discussion in lowered voices, she rushed away.
Max laughed and poured him a large brandy. “Here. Brent keeps a secret supply, and you look as if you need it.”
“Have some yourself. I imagine you need it, too, with so many of the family arriving unexpectedly.” Ran sat on a battered leather wing chair.
“I dare not,” Max said, flopping into a matching chair. “Have to keep a clear head. I know they mean well, but good Lord, it has been a nightmare. We sat down sixty three to dinner last night. We had to open the State Banqueting Room for the purpose, and you cannot conceive of the inconvenience.”
“Why did they come?” Ran said, sipping the brandy appreciatively. “My letters made it very clear that they should not expect to see Ger until the summer. Well, I suppose it is a wonderful thing that he is safe after all, and they mean it for the best. You have borne the brunt of it all and coped splendidly, I make no doubt.”
“I cannot quite agree there. Mrs Newall and I have been horribly flustered, I assure you. Fortunately, Monsieur Duvalle and Mrs Cromarty were enlivened by the challenge, so there were no problems in the kitchen, and it is impossible to conceive how we should have contrived without Mrs Brack.”
“Really? I have often wondered why we needed a Mistress of the Chambers at all, and why Mrs Newall could not see to all that, so it is reassuring to know that she has a useful function after all.”
“Useful function? She has been magnificent, Ran. All these carriages kept arriving, disgorging Lord This and Lady That, not to mention maids and valets and footmen and grooms and so on and so forth, and no warning whatsoever, and she recognised everyone on sight and assigned them to their favourite rooms without the slightest hesitation, remembering fresh flowers for this lady and a certain kind of soap for another. Lady Jane will only use jonquil-scented soap, did you know that?”
“I did not even know that such a thing existed,” Ran said laughing.
“Nor I, but it does, and Mrs Brack keeps a supply on hand especially for her ladyship. And so calm, never the least bit agitated. She has even found accommodation for all the hangers on. Wonderful woman. So we have… not coped splendidly, precisely, but we survived. How long will they stay, do you suppose?”
“If Ger has his way, they will be gone tomorrow,” Ran said.
“What! You will never get them all out just like that!”
“Ger wants them gone, so go they must,” Ran said, with a shrug. “He is duke now, so his wishes must prevail, although how it is to be done I cannot immediately determine. If they set their minds to it, they are perfectly capable of staying for a month.”
“Heaven forbid! We shall see about that. But how is he, Ran? I was tucked away behind the footmen, so I did not get a good look at him, but he looked well to me. A slight limp, I thought.”
“Yes, from the broken leg he suffered in the shipwreck.” Ran sighed and sipped his brandy. A footman ran in and had some hurried words with Max before dashing off again.
Max sat down and heaved a sigh. “He is bound to have changed, I suppose. Three years in America, then surviving the shipwreck followed by a year of living under a false name, pretending to be a clerk… he is bound to be a little different. He still dislikes huge gatherings, though.” He chuckled. “Although I must confess, the massed ranks of the Litherholms and assorted connections is an appalling sight. I do not blame him for running away. Will he come down to dinner, do you think?”
“Who can say? He is a little unpredictable just at the moment. Sixty three at table? He will not like that! I daresay he will stay in his rooms until everyone has gone.”
“They will not do so until they have seen him, Ran. That is what they came for, after all. If he cannot face dinner, see if you can persuade him to appear after the tea has been brought in. He can show them that he is safe and well, and tell them to remove their unwanted selves from the ha
llowed grounds of Valmont. Or some such. I am sure you can devise something conciliatory. But you will dine with us, I hope?”
“Certainly, and I had better go and change. Giggs will have unpacked for me by now. Is there any major news I should know about?”
“Oh… a fire at the mill, but quickly put out, thank God. Very little damage. Peckham’s eldest had a nasty fall, trying to trim a damaged oak up by Shallowford Woods. Leg very badly broken. The surgeon thought it might have to come off, but it looks like it will hold. Not sure what a farmer’s son will do if he can barely walk.”
“We will find him work somewhere on the estate.”
“I knew you would say so, and ventured to offer that reassurance to Peckham. Oh, and Lady Elizabeth moved into her lodge three days ago. So she is one who will not be leaving.”
“Excellent. At least she is of an age to offer some companionship to Miss Chandry. I should not like Aunt Anne to be the only other female in the house.”
“I am not sure that Lady Elizabeth and Miss Chandry have much in common,” Max said in a cool voice. “What exactly is her position here, might one enquire?”
Ran was rather taken aback by such obvious disdain of Ginny, about whom Max knew nothing. “She is Ger’s guest.”
Max gave a derisory snort. “That story will not fly! Is he planning to wed her, or is she his chère-amie?”
“Must those be the only choices?”
“Come now, Ran, I was not born yesterday!”
Ran reached for the brandy decanter, then thought better of it, for there was a whole long, difficult evening to be got through and he would survive it all the better for not being foxed. Well, not yet, at all events.
“It is the devil of a coil, Max. She is happy to call herself his mistress, and there is no doubt of it, for she is with child, but he wants her treated with respect, and to live here as a guest. Did you get my letter? About preparing the Violet Room?”
He nodded briefly. “Lord, that will set all the old aunts by the ears — the duke’s mistress living right here in the house. And in the family wing? They will never wear it, you know. There will be the most almighty fuss.”
“He is the duke,” Ran said again. “He can do what he likes in his own house.”
“We shall just have to get rid of her. No, stop laughing, I am serious. If he is so lost to all that is due to his name, you must make him understand it.”
Ran drained the brandy glass and set it down on a table with a sharp click. “Let us have one thing very clear between us, Max. It is not my rôle in life to impose my own precepts onto my brother. God has seen fit to make him the duke and not me, and Ger must make his own decisions and set his own standard of conduct. My only rôle is to support him in everything he does — unswervingly. And yours too, I trust. Understood?”
“Perfectly.”
“Good. Then I shall see you at dinner.”
Ran made his way up a minor stairway known as the Stable Stair, since it connected the door nearest to the stables with the family’s private quarters. Here on the second floor was the apartment that Ger and Ran had shared since they were ten years old, and had graduated from the nursery wing to the adult world of valets and dressing rooms and full-sized beds. Their rooms occupied the entire end of the wing, with a bedroom and dressing room each, and in between them, a vast sitting room equipped with a dining table as well as comfortable chairs, bookcases, writing desks and a pianoforte.
The corridor, however, bore the surprising sight of Captain Edgerton, conspicuously wearing his sword and holding a pistol. Beside him, Michael Chandry carried a second pistol.
“Are we expecting trouble?” Ran said, not sure whether to be concerned or diverted.
“Just a gentle deterrent, my lord,” Edgerton said smoothly. “His Grace’s relations, it seems, were very keen to convey their good wishes to him in person. His Grace, it transpired, was less enthusiastic about receiving such good wishes, at least in such large quantities.”
“He told us to get rid of them if any more came, and if they wouldn’t go, to shoot them,” Chandry said with a grin. “And when the captain said, ‘What, even your Aunt Agatha?’, he said, ‘Especially Aunt Agatha.’ He’s a right one, ain’t he, for all he’s a duke?”
“If you mean he is rude and curmudgeonly, I can only agree,” Ran said ruefully. “Are you going to shoot me, too?”
“Only if you offer His Grace good wishes,” Edgerton said. “He is in that room there.”
Ran was about to open the designated door when he turned back to Edgerton. “Have you been provided with somewhere to sleep? We are a bit overrun with visiting servants just now but—”
“Mr Neate has engaged rooms for us at the Pig and Whistle, in Beckhampton.”
“Naturally he has. I would expect nothing less of him, especially when he was last seen in Exeter. How does he contrive to travel round the country so quickly? Hires a hack mount and labours along in our dust, I suppose, for I never once saw him.”
“He takes the stage,” Edgerton said, grinning. “The mail, if a route offers itself, but otherwise the common stage. He invariably arrives before we do, and you would not notice him if you were to observe him, my lord. He is very unobtrusive — it is his special skill. He will be here later. The three of us have a rota worked out, so you need not worry that His Grace will be left unprotected.”
“You are very efficient, Captain,” Ran said, laughing. “I thank you, but please try not to shoot anyone, not even Aunt Agatha.”
Ran opened the door and entered the sitting room. At the far end, the dining table was set for three persons, but only Ger and Ginny sat there, calmly eating from the array of dishes laid out there.
“There you are, Ran! Could you not escape them sooner? We started without you, for we were famished.”
“You are not planning to dine with the family, then?” Ran said, frowning.
“Are they still here?”
“Of course they are still here! It would be unconscionable to toss sixty relations out to fend for themselves at this hour. I will see what I can do to get rid of them in the morning, but they will dine here tonight, in the State Banqueting Room, if you please!”
“Oh, I should like to see that!” Ginny said. “Jon has told me so much about the different rooms here, but that is one of the most splendid, isn’t it? What a pity we have already had our dinner.”
Ger looked so horrified that Ran laughed. “You are a remarkable woman, Miss Chandry, but you will never persuade Ger that eating with sixty or more relations is an enjoyable occasion.”
“I have no objection to them in small numbers,” Ger said. “In the summer, they come and go, so we never have more than a dozen or two here at a time. But sixty! What are they about, coming here like carrion crows to poke and pry? It is the outside of enough.”
“They want to see you,” Ran said gently, “and I am afraid they will not leave until they have done so. I cannot make them, you know, and nor can you, if they refuse to leave. Much better to show yourself once or twice, and then they will be satisfied and go away.”
“I cannot, Ran, you know that. I hate all such crowds, where everyone is pointing at me. If I can slip away into a corner, such gatherings are tolerable — amusing, even, sometimes. But to be the centre of attention — no, it is too difficult.”
“Do you think you could manage to put in an appearance after tea… just drop in, say a few words here and there? For a few minutes, perhaps?”
But he shook his head decisively, and Ran gave it up, and went to his own room to change. He had to scramble into his evening clothes, which he hated doing, but it was already past the dinner hour, and when he reached the State Boudoir, he found everyone assembled awaiting his arrival in varying degrees of impatience, all in their evening finery. Considering that it was no more than a family gathering, there was so much silk and gold and jewellery on display that Ran felt quite nauseous. He signed to Brent to announce dinner almost immediately.
The State Banqueting Room had probably not been used for ten years or more, not since the Sixth Duke had last been well enough to entertain on his traditional lavish scale. It was reputed to hold one hundred diners in tolerable comfort, but even the four and sixty gathered that evening made the room look full. Like all the state rooms on the first floor, the Banqueting Room boasted high, arching ceilings, with massive chandeliers and mirrors everywhere, so the room was as dazzlingly bright as a summer’s day. There was still the odd cobweb here and there if one looked closely, but the housemaids had done a good job of preparing the room at such short notice. Far above them, the diners’ appetites were encouraged by Biblical feast scenes painted onto the ceiling. Around the walls, the finest of Valmont’s collection of paintings — Titians and Van Dycks, two Canalettos and a Rubens, and others Ran could not remember. Ger would know what they all were, and their histories, but he did not.
Ran sat in the middle of one side, for the two end chairs, as massively ornate as thrones, were kept for the duke and duchess only. No one else was permitted to sit there. Ran wondered idly if, when Ger entertained here, he would seat Ginny in the duchess’s chair. Probably he would, for he had enough effrontery even for that. But no, for Ger himself would never entertain here. It would be far too large a gathering for him.
The first course was already set out before them, and Ran could only applaud the ingenuity of the kitchens in providing so lavish a feast at such short notice. The guests ate and talked and drank and talked, and Ran smiled until he felt his cheeks stiffen. So much civility was exhausting. A second course was set out, then some desserts. The ladies withdrew, and the gentlemen gathered around Ran to ask more probing questions about ‘that pretty little filly of Gervase’s’, questions which Ran could not answer to his own satisfaction, let alone theirs. Eventually, he felt that duty had been done and returned to the State Boudoir, fervently hoping the tea had arrived.
The Duke (Silver Linings Mysteries Book 6) Page 13
