Breakfast at Midnight

by Fiona MacFarlane

CHAPTER FORTY ONE

  A Notable Absence

  Breakfast at Wintersleigh was an interesting affair for those who attended it one Tuesday morning in mid January. The usual party was there, with, of course, one notable exception. Frances’s place was conspicuously left vacant, and no attempt was made to disguise the fact that she had once claimed that place at the table. As each member of the silent group tried desperately not to look at the empty seat before them, a little bird, perched outside on the breakfast room window sill, began twittering. George Brearly was the first to hear it, and to the delight of his nephew Jack, and the disapproval of the other members at the table, he started to mimic the bird’s tweeting.

  ‘George,’ Louisa said, without averting her eyes from her breakfast, ‘would you kindly stop that. It is exceedingly irritating, as is your reading the newspaper at the table.’

  George fell momentarily silent, then threw his nephew a cheeky grin, a grin that sent Jack into hysterics. Buoyed by such encouragement, George put down his paper and resumed his bird impressions.

  ‘For heaven’s sake, George!’ Michael upbraided. ‘Do us all a favour and be quiet!’

  ‘By Jove!’ George cried, holding his hands up in mock surrender. ‘Someone’s in a foul little mood today. A right little stew.’

  ‘Yes, well if you don’t keep your mouth shut, George,’ a disgruntled Michael warned, ‘you’ll have more to worry about than my foul little mood.’

  ‘Whoo! There’s no need to resort to threats.’

  Michael scowled at George, but said nothing. While he distractedly chewed on his devilled kidneys, George snatched up his newspaper from the table, and turned the page as noisily as he could.

  ‘Still pining for Miss Frances Norwood are we, Michael?’ George inquired, surveying his brother over the top of the paper. He couldn’t help noticing Michael’s wistful stares towards Frances’s vacant seat.

  Down the other end of the table, Agnes Wentworth gasped and dropped her knife onto her plate. The sharp sound reverberated around the room, and in an instant, every eye was turned upon her. A self-conscious Agnes retrieved her knife, and began buttering her bread agitatedly.

  ‘Well I don’t know about you,’ George went on, ‘but I certainly am.’

  Again Agnes’s hand faltered over her bread. This time, however, she tightened her grip on the butter knife, and kept a dignified silence.

  ‘I know she was only here for a short time,’ George resumed with a cheery determination, ‘but I liked her awfully. She didn’t have the pluck that I thought she had, but, I suppose, when it comes down to it, we all have our faults.’

  ‘Yes, we do have our faults, George,’ Michael ventured. ‘Yours, for instance, is a nauseating propensity to never stop talking.’

  ‘Well it’s preferable to being a big bore like you, Michael,’ George retaliated.

  ‘Yes thank you, gentlemen,’ Louisa said quickly, casting the two brothers a censuring look. ‘I think you have both said enough for the time being, don’t you?’ No-one answered. ‘Good, now perhaps we can change the subject. Agnes dear,’ she said regarding her daughter with expectant eyes, ‘I have been giving the wedding an exceeding amount of thought over the past few days. Have you thought any more about the floral arrangements? I know that you want yellow roses, but I am still inclined to think that orange blossom is more appropriate. It is the traditional flower. Charlotte agrees with me, don’t you, dear?’ Charlotte ignored her mother, and continued murmuring to her taciturn husband, who was sitting beside her.

  Agnes wiped her petite red lips with a crisp table napkin then turned towards her mother. ‘Well to tell you the truth, Mama,’ she replied rather petulantly, ‘I haven’t given it much consideration.’

  ‘I wonder what that intrepid governess is doing right now,’ George interrupted rather too loudly.

  ‘Who cares?’ Agnes suddenly declared in a voice too large for the room. ‘After the way she abandoned Mama, who cares?’ She then picked up a fork and began puncturing her boiled egg with a solitary fork prong. Once she had sufficiently disfigured her breakfast, she looked up at her mother.

  ‘Yes,’ Louisa conceded, smiling gratefully at Agnes, ‘she abandoned me most cruelly.’

  ‘I wonder where she is though,’ George murmured, folding the newspaper up and setting it down on the table.

  ‘Well from all reports,’ Charlotte ventured timidly, ‘she has settled into her new home tolerably well, and seems in good spirits.’

  ‘Yes, but where is she?’ George persisted.

  ‘I, I confess, I don’t know,’ Charlotte responded. ‘I saw her last week in Hobart, but she refused to tell me where she was staying.’

  ‘Did she look well?’ Michael heard himself say.

  ‘Yes. She looked very well indeed. I have no doubt of her well-being.’

  ‘Thank you, Charlotte,’ Louisa cut in crisply. ‘I think we have heard enough about Frances to satisfy our curiosity. That is if there was any to…’

  ‘She’s probably desolate without us,’ George volunteered, seemingly oblivious to the conversation going on around him. ‘Absolutely desolate.’

  ‘George!’ Louisa cried with a sudden burst of displeasure. ‘Would you stop interrupting us! That is twice you have done it in as many minutes. You really are a very disrespectful boy.’

  ‘A boy?’ George repeated, pulling a face. He clutched at his chest jokingly, as if he had been shot in the heart. ‘Oh, I’m wounded.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Louisa asked, watching him with apprehension.

  ‘Oh never mind,’ George muttered. ‘My humour is always wasted on you. Your niece, however, would have appreciated that joke. We share a similar witty sense of humour.’

  ‘Right, that is it,’ Louisa interjected, rising angrily to her feet. ‘I will take no more of this. How many times do I have to tell you? There is to be no more talk of Frances Norwood in this house. Is that understood?’ The Wintersleigh party stopped eating, and looked up at Louisa with astonishment.

  ‘Oh how tiresome,’ said George, shaking off pastry crumbs from his napkin. ‘What an absurd thing to say. She’s your niece! Your brother’s only child.’

  ‘So?’ Louisa fired back. ‘What difference does that make?’

  ‘She’s family. You can’t just forget about a family member like that.’

  ‘Mind your own business, George,’ Agnes cut in. ‘We are a close and proud family, and no-one treats us the way that beastly Frances did.’

  ‘What a ninny you are, Agnes,’ George asserted, beginning to regard her with penetrating eyes. ‘You’re speaking of her as though she’s a criminal.’ Agnes bit her lip and said nothing. ‘What did she do that was so bad? Did she run away with one of the servants? Did she steal the Wentworth family’s silver? No. She left Wintersleigh to seek greener pastures. That is all. Why it should constitute a serious breach in the family is beyond my powers of reasoning.’

  ‘George,’ Michael warned, ‘Agnes is right. This is none of your business, so keep your sticky little beak out of it.’

  ‘No,’ George answered, ‘I think it is my business.’

  ‘Oh?’ Louisa asked, her eyes gleaming with curiosity, ‘how so?’

  George turned towards the dowager mistress of Wintersleigh. ‘This family,’ he began after a long and uncomfortable pause, ‘may indeed be very proud, but by the same token, they’re also incredibly unforgiving. Take that trifling incident all those years ago. You’ve never forgiven me for that, have you?’

  ‘Trifling incident?’ Louisa reiterated. ‘And which one would that be? If my memory serves me correctly, there were always incidents when you were around. I will never forget the time you set fire to the Wintersleigh stables. I think you were fifteen years old at the time.’

  George half-smiled. ‘What can I say, Louisa? I was an adventurous youth.’

  ‘You were, and still are, a trouble maker, George Brearly,’ Louisa declared, as she sank back into her chair, ‘and because of y
ou, half the stables were razed to the ground.’

  ‘And for that I sincerely apologise, but it was ten years ago, By Jove! You still haven’t forgiven me for it.’ Louisa sniffed resolutely and turned away. ‘You’re incredible,’ he said, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘And you consider yourself part of a Christian family.’

  ‘We are a Christian family!’ Agnes broke in with a sudden fury. ‘How dare you question it!’

  ‘Christians are supposed to forgive, Agnes Wentworth,’ George observed, folding up his napkin in great agitation. ‘This family, however, does not.’

  With that final retort, he rose from his chair and began moving toward the door. Half-way across the room though, he faltered, and turning back towards the breakfast table, caught a glimpse of his half-eaten breakfast. In the next moment he returned to the table, and in one skilful swoop, reclaimed his pork pie. Before Louisa could protest, he had disappeared into the distant realms of the house.

  ‘And where does he think he is going with that?’ Louisa asked, just as the door slammed.

  ‘Leave him, Louisa,’ Michael said, loosening his necktie.

  ‘He will scatter crumbs everywhere,’ she said tearfully. ‘And I have just had the floor cleaned.’

  After reassurances from the remainder of the party, Louisa was at last silenced, but in no way was she appeased. George Brearly had insulted her family yet again, and that was not an indignity to be borne lightly. This, she decided, was an offence that could never be forgiven, and it was now impossible for George Brearly to ever reassert his position in her good opinion. Trembling with rage, she rose unsteadily from the table. She apologised for her bad manners, before hastily leaving the room. After her abrupt departure, the remaining party gloomily dispersed into the safety of the drawing room.

  ‘Why does everyone always fight, Daddy?’ Jack asked, as his father carried him on his shoulders out of the dining room. ‘Everyone’s always fighting.’

  Jack had indeed voiced what everyone was thinking. It was true. The families were always arguing.

  Later that afternoon, once the animosity between the families had lessened, the Wintersleigh party removed themselves to Rosewood, where they were to have an enjoyable, and relatively incident free afternoon tea, followed by a casual stroll throughout the grounds of Rosewood. After wiling away the afternoon, the party headed back to the house. Thomas Maycroft was the straggler amongst the group, and by the time he reached the back door, everyone else had gone, except for Michael. Up until now the sight of his brother-in-law had never aroused Michael’s interest, but as he watched the lone figure of Thomas shuffle his way to the house, he was suddenly struck by Thomas’s odd appearance. His shoulders were slumped forward, his hands were uncharacteristically thrust into his pockets, and in the fading light Michael noticed the enormous rings under Thomas’s eyes. From where Michael was standing, Thomas looked positively old and haggard.

  Michael waited for his brother-in-law to join him, and once they were together, Michael addressed him. ‘Are you well, Thomas?’ he asked gently. ‘It’s just that you have been rather subdued of late.’

  ‘You’ve asked me this before. I am perfectly all right.’

  ‘Have you been sleeping well? I’m afraid you look tired.’

  ‘No matter,’ Thomas replied rather tersely. ‘I’ll have plenty of time for sleeping, later on.’

  Michael raised his eyebrows inquiringly. He didn’t pretend to understand what Thomas meant by that remark, but continued on regardless. ‘I eventually apologised to Jack,’ he ventured. ‘In fact I had a few words with him last week.’ Thomas made no comment on this. ‘I’m making every conceivable effort to be more patient and tolerant with him. We’re on better terms already. I haven’t found one dismembered creature in my bed since that time.’ He attempted a smile, but Thomas did not return it. ‘Very well, I will leave you to it. You clearly have other things on your mind.’ He made a move to turn away, but for some reason changed his mind. ‘Look, Thomas,’ he added, ‘if there’s anything you want to discuss with me, I’d be happy to listen. I know we haven’t been on the best of terms recently, but I’d like to think that you could talk to me if there was a problem. If you’re not comfortable talking to me, I can thoroughly recommend Charlotte. She is a wonderful listener.’

  Again Thomas made no answer. Mistaking this for mere surliness, Michael shrugged his shoulders and entered the house. A short time later, when Thomas was no-where to be seen, Michael caught sight of his brother-in-law through the window. To his concern, Thomas was standing motionlessly, exactly where Michael had left him outside. His hands were still in his pockets, and he was looking steadfastly down at the ground.