“Goodness,” said Emma. “Just a peppercorn?” Sir Mark nodded. “Should it not be a golden peppercorn?”
“A common peppercorn once a year will be sufficient, ma’am. And for my part, I will try to be a good landlord. I have a great deal to learn in that respect, but Lord Rothborough has promised to help me. He came and told me the news about my father – and –” He broke off and shook his head. “I do not deserve such kindness. And he is willing to consider that, at some point, Lady Maria and I may – and it seems that she – but that is all in the future. There is a great deal to be seen to before then. My aunt and my nephews, in the first instance.”
“How are the boys?” Emma said.
“Fragile,” he said. “They have had their share of cruelty from my father, and this is another wound. I am all they have now since their mother – well, no one knows what will happen with her. They keep asking me what will happen, and I have no good answer.”
“Her prompt confession should have some effect on her sentence,” Giles said. “And a good defence barrister. Given what she suffered, there are some grounds for compassion.”
“I will get the best man I can for her,” Sir Mark said. “And in the meantime I must be father and mother to them. It is a great responsibility.”
“Perhaps it is a burden you will be able to share soon enough,” said Emma. “If, as you say, Lord Rothborough is willing –”
“If Lady Maria is willing! It is a great deal for her to take on. I will be trouble enough, I dare say.”
“Oh, we women like trouble, I assure you, Sir Mark,” said Emma. “Adversity makes heroines of us, which makes you gentlemen admire us all the more! An excellent result, yes?” she added, smiling at Giles.
“A peppercorn sounds entirely reasonable to me,” Giles said, going to shake his hand. “Thank you, sir.”
“I hope you will be happy here,” Sir Mark went on. “My mother would be glad to see happiness here. Her disposition was a cheerful one, despite everything that was inflicted on her. She loved nothing better than good humour and music.” He went to one of the pilasters where Giles had first discovered the echo, and caressed it with his hand. “If she chooses to haunt you, it will be out of goodwill, I am sure.”
Emma went to his side and laid her hand on the young man’s arm, and said, “Then you must come here often and see if you can glimpse her. Yes?”
“With great pleasure, ma’am. Now, about the repairs, where should we begin? Perhaps you might show me the most pressing problems and I can get the work in hand as soon as possible.”
“The kitchen is the worst offender,” Emma said.
Sir Mark offered Emma his arm and they went off together, leaving Giles alone in the drawing room. For a moment he doubted what had happened. To be offered such a house, set to rights, and for so little – it meant that if he had lost his post, they would have enough to live on, and in a plain sort of comfort that would exactly suit them. They would have fruit from the garden and excellent neighbours, whom they could entertain, albeit modestly by the standards of Holbroke or even his sister’s house; but with enough elegance to satisfy the obligations of hospitality. Emma would not be reduced to giving German lessons, and he would – well, what would he do? That was a question he had scarcely considered and one that he found in that moment he did not like in the least. The thought of enforced idleness was most unpleasant. How on earth was he to do without the thrill of the hunt?
“Giles?” Emma had come back to the drawing room. “Are you coming?”
“Yes,” Giles said.
“Sir Mark is talking about new kitchen ranges. I’m worried he will be too extravagant. He has no notion of money, never having had any before!” She stretched out her hand to him and he took it, and kissed it. “You look worried.”
“I was thinking about work.”
“You mean doing without it?”
“How did you guess?”
She smiled.
“Because I know you rather well now,” she said. “And you must not fret. They will never let you go. How could they? We have no one else of your genius. There would be a public outcry, a campaign in The Bugle, at least. We need our gentleman rat-catcher. It will not happen. You will not lose your post!”
“I had better get myself a velvet coat, then,” said Giles, laughing. “Gentleman rat-catcher indeed.”
“And a squashed hat with tails on it,” Emma said. “Come now, sir! Kitchen ranges! We need your opinion.” With which he was hauled off to the kitchen.
Chapter Forty-two
“Thank God you are here! Do you know who else is coming?” Felix said, a few days later, on being shown into a private dining room at The Blue Boar and finding Major Vernon drying himself by the fire. The weather had settled into a weary period of heavy rain.
Major Vernon shook his head.
“I am glad to see you here. When Lazenby asked me to dine with him, I was a little curious, to say the least.”
“Ditto,” said Felix.
“How are things at Ardenthwaite?”
“Damp,” said Felix. “The place is riddled with it. I had not noticed it before. I suppose it is this awful weather. We are back at Hawksby, and thank goodness! Eleanor was getting a cough to match my own.” He sat down by the fire. “I should not have come out, but his message was very strange.”
“Yes, quite,” said Major Vernon.
“Perhaps he wishes to pour oil on the waters,” said Felix, taking a glass of wine from the table where the claret sat waiting.
“One can but hope, but it seems unlikely.”
At this moment, the door opened and the Captain came in.
“Forgive me, I am late. This ridiculous weather – where has this rain come from?”
“I think Northminster has a peculiar and appalling climate all of its own,” Felix said. “I have never lived anywhere where the weather was so... excessive.”
“Yes, yes, indeed, Mr Carswell. That is quite the word,” said Lazenby, handing his wet overcoat to the waiter, and then sitting down to pull off his gaiters. “I’m glad to see you have made yourselves comfortable. I hope the wine is to your taste. I was not sure what to order. I fear I do not have your discernment.”
“It is only Major Vernon who has any discernment,” said Felix. “At least about wine.”
“And I only know what scraps I do from my brother-in-law.”
“Ah yes, Canon Fforde. A most impressive gentleman,” said Lazenby.
“I think you should try it for yourself, Captain,” said Major Vernon, pouring a glass for Lazenby.
“Thank you,” said Lazenby.
“How is Mrs Lazenby?” Major Vernon enquired. “And the children?”
“Oh, very well, thank you, sir, or at least as well as can be expected with this weather. It seems to set everyone sniffing. I have had to call out Mr Peterson twice.”
“Nothing serious, I hope?” said Major Vernon.
“No, no, nothing, but one can never tell. Children can be so fragile. We have been very lucky, of course, in general.”
Felix drank down his wine, refilled his glass and wondered if this conversation was going to encompass the health of the pet mice in the Lazenby household. He knew he ought to weigh in with his professional opinion of the prevailing winds and children’s chests, but he did not feel like exerting himself. He felt sour and awkward.
Dinner was brought in and they sat down to eat it. It was by no means a comfortable meal.
Conversation was kept up with a forced good cheer that struck Felix as utterly ridiculous, but Lazenby seemed determined on it. He asked a great many questions about Scotland and its customs, about kilts and dirks and the composition of Highland regiments.
Having no ready answer, Felix changed tack.
“Have you read Oliver Truro’s latest novel?” he said. “My wife and I have been devouring it.”
“By your damp hearth?” Major Vernon said.
“It added a great deal to the drama, I think
, to hear the rain lashing at the casements,” said Felix. “It is impossible to guess how the story will go.”
In fact, it had been most useful in keeping up Eleanor’s spirits. She had discovered soon after they arrived at Ardenthwaite that she was not, after all, with child. It had cost Felix a great deal to hide his own relief, while her grief had made her irritable. Truro’s new novel had brought a welcome distraction for them both.
“There is nothing in it one might object to for the family circle?” said Lazenby.
“Nothing at all,” Felix said. “In fact, my only complaint would be that the women are a little too good.”
“That is my objection to his writing,” said Major Vernon. “He does not seem to know what real women are like, or for some reason cannot capture them on the page.”
“As some artists cannot paint cats,” Felix said, refilling his glass, and realising as he did so that the bottle was now empty. He also realised he had drunk more than Lazenby and the Major. He pushed his glass away, determined to pace himself.
“I don’t quite understand,” said Lazenby.
“There is a pair of curious old French paintings at Hawksby,” said Felix, “where everything in them is beautifully painted except the cats, which are ugly beasts that look nothing like real felines. It has been puzzling me.”
“We all have our blind spots,” said Major Vernon, “surely?”
“Speaking of which,” said Lazenby. He got up from the table and went over to the fire. “You gentlemen will be wondering why I have asked you here tonight. In ordinary circumstances, of course, we ought to be on regular dining terms, for the sake of corps d’esprit, and I think it was an oversight of mine not to initiate something of this kind. Catherine, my wife, said that I ought to break bread with you, that I had been keeping myself unnecessarily apart and that had made me –” He broke off and looked down at the fire. “She is a very wise woman. I wonder what Mr Truro would make of her. She is quite the heroine.”
There was a quiver of emotion in Lazenby’s voice that Felix found excruciating.
“I think we need some more wine,” said Felix. “Port, perhaps?”
“I think not,” said Major Vernon. “You were saying, sir?”
“The thing is, sir,” Lazenby said, “I have erred. It is Catherine who has made me see my faults – towards you in particular. She has been an inspiration.”
“Then let us toast the ladies!” said Felix, taking up his glass and attempting to change the tone entirely. “You like Scottish customs, Captain, so let us send for some more claret and drink their health decently!”
“I don’t think Captain Lazenby is in the mood for toasts, Mr Carswell,” said Major Vernon. “Please go on, sir.”
“Thank you, Major Vernon,” said Lazenby, adjusting his stance, rather as if he were about to give testimony of his salvation at a dissenting house altar rail. “I went to Axworth. I felt I should see the situation for myself. It was an interesting – no, a shocking experience, but my mind was still set against your actions, despite all I heard and saw there. So I went home, and naturally my dear Catherine asked about what I had seen. She had heard rumours of the gravity of the situation there and so I told her all that had happened. And her words – my angel’s words – were: ‘how fortunate that Major Vernon is so quick witted and Mr Carswell so dedicated. You are lucky to have such colleagues.’ And of course, I pointed out the difficulties in the situation, but she would not be moved and she told me, with the greatest respect, that having seen the evidence with my own eyes, I ought not to judge you so harshly, indeed, that I ought not to judge you at all.”
“I see,” said Major Vernon.
“I prayed about it, and the answer was clear enough. My wife was right and I had made a grave and hasty mistake about your actions. There are indeed situations where we must act unconventionally.”
“So you are dropping the inquiry?” said Felix.
“Yes, yes, I am. And I hope you will return to your post forthwith, Major Vernon. There is certainly a great deal to be done and it is not easy to replace you.”
“Hear, hear!” exclaimed Felix and downed the last of his wine. “That is worth a toast, surely?”
“Too late for me,” said Major Vernon. “And I think Captain Lazenby might prefer to go and see all is well at home.”
“Yes, indeed,” said Captain Lazenby, and after a round of hasty goodbyes, he departed.
“That I hardly expected,” said Major Vernon, sitting down by the fire.
“It’s splendid news,” said Felix. “And I like him better for it. Although” – and now he could not help laughing – “that was awkward.”
“Yes, what a mortification for him!” Major Vernon said. “I am not sure I should have managed that.”
“Given you never do anything wrong, it must be unimaginable for you,” said Felix. “For the rest of us flawed mortals, we are quite used to humbling ourselves.”
“Not at all true,” said Major Vernon, smiling. Then he rubbed his face and said, “But I am grateful to him. I had no idea what I was going to do with myself. Idleness is no pleasure for me.”
“I know what you mean. Mr Harper will not let me go back to work yet. It is quite ridiculous.”
“He knows what he is about.”
“He is in league with Lord Rothborough – it’s a sinister development,” said Felix. “Are we sure there is no more wine?”
“You talk as if you are deprived.”
“I have to restrain myself with ladies in the house,” said Felix, leaning forward and stirring up the fire. “But it is probably just as well that I keep my wits about me.”
“Certainly,” said Major Vernon. “You never know what may happen next. Just like one of Truro’s novels!”
Epilogue
September
“A great success, Mr Carswell,” said Lady Blanchfort. “You must be pleased.”
“It does seem to be going well,” said Felix, watching as the floor filled up for the first waltz after supper.
It had been Eleanor’s idea to throw a ball at Hawksby to celebrate the marriage of Major Vernon to Mrs Maitland. When she first proposed it, he had wondered if this would be quite the thing, as the wedding was to be a quiet affair. Nor had he, at that point, been much in the mood for dancing, still feeling the full languor of his convalescence. But as the day had approached, his health had improved, and when Major Vernon and Mrs Maitland had expressed their own delight at the idea, Eleanor’s ball had become less an object of dread and more something to anticipate.
Now, after a lavish and lively supper, they had returned to the large drawing room which made a perfect ballroom. The musicians were retuning their instruments and the order was set for more dancing. Eleanor was walking down the room with Lord Milburne, encouraging everyone to stand up. Dressed in pale gold, with gilded ears of wheat, grape leaves and indeed grapes in her hair, she looked like the presiding goddess of the harvest, descended from Olympia to do the honours of the night.
“Would you like to dance, ma’am?” Felix said, remembering himself.
Lady Blanchfort considered a moment.
“Yes, why not? After all, I have been a widow for six months now. No one would consider it improper to dance with my own son-in-law in a private house, would they?”
“In my opinion, it would be improper if you didn’t,” Felix said. “I cannot comprehend our mourning customs sometimes, especially for women. We stray too close to those barbaric customs in India where widows must throw themselves on the pyre.”
“Hardly,” said Lady Blanchfort. “A little decorous seclusion is not comparable. And in my case, since I was not a good wife, I can at least attempt to be a good widow.”
He was surprised by such a frank admission.
“But you will still dance?”
“I must, since you insist, Mr Carswell.”
“Felix,” said Felix.
“As you wish, Felix,” she said with a smile, and took his hand. “Elea
nor looks very well tonight, given her disappointment of a few weeks ago. It’s good she had this to occupy her.”
“But you don’t think it a disappointment?” Felix said.
“I was too young at one and twenty. You must be careful.”
“That is my –” Felix could not go on as the music had begun and the business of their dance must start. As he put his arms around her and they began to waltz, he realised quite why the dance was considered so shocking in some circles. There was an intimacy here that he had not anticipated. He felt both alarmed and, to his shame, a little excited by it, especially as they began to turn and turn about in the rapid movements demanded of the dance. She was so like Eleanor, the same rare, pale, red-headed beauty, and yet she was unlike her. Her maturity piqued him in a way he knew it should not. What had she meant when she said she had not been a good wife? That implied a great many sins, and he found himself imagining the most lurid ones. He had drunk a great deal of champagne and the heat of the ballroom and the feverish, repetitive motion of the waltz was beginning to have a curious effect on him. That she was enjoying the dance struck him too. He did not think he had ever seen her so unburdened, and at the end of it, she was breathless and smiling, with a lock of hair trailing down her cheek in a careless and most appealing fashion.
“Dear me!” she said, flicking open her black lace fan and turning a little from him. “That was rather fast.”
He led her from the floor in the direction of the open window. “Thank you, though. That was most agreeable.” She caught her breath a little and added, “What were you going to say before we began?”
The Echo at Rooke Court Page 33
