Duke's Folly

by Melinda Hammond

  'Mr Wyre? Capital. I have one sentence to finish and then I shall join you.'

  Perry did not sit down but walked around the parlour. With its polished wainscoting and vase of meadow flowers adorning the table, he thought how much more welcoming this was than the cold magnificence of Dulverton House. He tried to imagine Honoria as mistress of Cullenmore, imposing a similarly chill elegance on its rooms and suddenly the idea of retreating here to Duke's Folly appealed very strongly indeed. He should sound out Monsieur Coutras; perhaps he could be persuaded to live elsewhere, and Perry would be happy to give him an additional pension for the pleasure of having Duke's Folly as his bolthole.

  His spirits lifted a little. Surely that would please everyone, for the family needed more money.

  Sophie returned with her father, then went off to fetch refreshments. Perry was happy to discuss the history that Monsieur Coutras was writing and to talk about art and music but he smoothly deflected any enquiries about himself and guided the conversation into less dangerous channels. Nevertheless, he enjoyed himself and an hour passed quickly. Monsieur Coutras was an entertaining host and Sophie, too, was able to converse upon a wide range of subjects. She was well educated and had a lively wit. He found himself thinking that she would shine in any salon.

  Perry was just deciding that it was time to take his leave when Hugh and Armand arrived. Their genuine delight at his presence was gratifying, they had spotted the curricle and pair and after a lively discussion of the advantages of driving a pair over having three horses and driving a unicorn, Hugh wanted to know if he had brought Dulcie with him.

  'No, the mare is not with me yet, but she is being brought down to join me in a couple of weeks.'

  Sophie frowned. 'I thought you were not staying above a fortnight.'

  Perry silently cursed himself for the slip and did his best to recover. 'I cannot say precisely how long I shall be here, I have not yet decided.'

  'And will you bring Dulcie here again when you have her?' asked Hugh.

  'Never mind the mare,' put in Armand, pushing his brother out of the way. 'I hope Mr Wyre might take us out in his curricle.'

  'Armand!' cried Sophie, frowning at her brother's audacity, but Perry merely laughed.

  'I should be delighted to do so, but that must be another day, for I must be getting back shortly. I have work to do.'

  'Tomorrow then?' suggested the little boy, hopefully.

  Perry hesitated, but only for a moment. 'I shall be free tomorrow, possibly after four o'clock.'

  'That would be excellent,' exclaimed Hugh. 'Armand and I have lessons every morning, and after that we can do any chores that are required and be finished by four.'

  'Boys, boys, you go too fast,' cried Sophie, her cheeks burning with mortification. 'Mr Wyre may not wish to take you out in his curricle.'

  'On the contrary I shall be delighted to tool them around the lanes a little, but on one condition.' He found three pairs of eager young eyes fixed upon him but turned his own gaze towards Sophie. 'As long as you will be the first to drive out with me, Miss Coutras.'

  He saw the blush deepen in her cheeks and he was sure she was going to refuse when her father answered for her.

  'Vraiment, that is a capital idea. Sophie works very hard and does not have many treats for herself. I thank you, Mr Wyre.'

  'We cannot monopolise Mr Wyre's time in this way, Papa.'

  'Nonsense, my dear, if the gentleman wishes to take you out, and you would like to go, then what could be better?'

  'Do you wish to drive out with me, Miss Coutras?' asked Perry. 'Pray tell me if you would prefer not to do so, I shall not be offended, I assure you.'

  Her dark lashes dropped, shielding her blue eyes. She said quietly, 'I should very much like to drive out, sir.'

  'Then it is settled,' he said, rising. 'I will call here as soon as my business tomorrow is done. But now, I must be on my way.'

  'So, you're taking them driving now, your grace.'

  Wragg was sitting up beside him, arms folded and disapproval almost tangible, as they trotted across the bridge and back towards Hyndmarsh.

  'I am merely repaying their hospitality.' Perry tried to stifle the little voice in his head that warned him he would be better advised to keep his distance. He failed and said irritably, 'I am merely getting to know my tenants. There can be no harm in that. It is, after all, the reason I came to Hampshire.'

  His groom snorted and Perry gave him a frosty look, which had no effect at all.

  'I reckon there could be a great deal of harm in it, your grace. That family's getting under yer skin, you mark my words.'

  Aware of the futility of reprimanding an old retainer, Perry kept silent and whipped up his team, but as he enjoyed a solitary dinner in his private parlour, Wragg's words came back to him. Perhaps he should have spent his first day in Hyndmarsh visiting one of the farms he owned here rather than making directly for Duke's Folly. His mouth twisted. It was aptly named, since it was distracting him from the reason for his visit here. He had only two weeks to talk to tenants and learn of their concerns before he made himself known to his agent. He could not afford to fritter away his time enjoying himself with the Coutras family.

  When the landlady and her maid came in to clear the dishes, he decided that if time was short, then he should begin his enquiries immediately.

  'Tell me,' he said, 'I am interested in how the land does here. I should like to talk to one or two of the farmers. Who would it be best to approach, to discuss crop yields and the like?'

  The landlady paused to regard him with narrowed eyes. 'Are you one of they gennlemen farmers, then?'

  'Something of that nature.'

  She folded her arms. 'Well, now, let me see. Farmer Nettleton is very knowledgeable. He and his family have owned and worked Nettleton Fold for generations.'

  'And is that not the case for most of the farms about here?'

  She sniffed. 'The biggest landowner is the Duke of Cullenmore, and we don't see hide nor hair of him.'

  'I suppose he has a local agent who handles the business for him.'

  'Aye, he does.' She began to collect up the dishes, clearly not intending to say more.

  'Perhaps I should have a word with this agent,' said Perry, watching her carefully. 'He should know everything there is about the business of farming this land.'

  The landlady piled the last of the crockery on her tray, muttering, 'He knows how to make money out of it, undoubtedly.'

  She went out, leaving Perry alone with his bottle of brandy and his thoughts. He tried to recall everything he had learned about the Hampshire properties. Rafford had told him Claud Grieves had been agent here for many years and had never given any cause for complaint, the rents were paid regularly and Grieves submitted a quarterly report.

  'However, your grace, that doesn't mean there ain't room for improvement,' Rafford had warned him. 'I should have visited the area myself, only...'

  His voice had trailed away, and Perry knew exactly why. The steward had been too busy maintaining the major estates and protecting them from the depredations of his father, who considered Cullenmore nothing more than a vast treasury he might draw on to pay for his lavish lifestyle.

  Well, thought Perry, he had little experience of these matters, but if Grieves could not satisfy him that he was doing his best, not only for Cullenmore but for the tenants, too, then Rafford must come and make further investigations.

  The following morning Perry hired a hack from the stables and set off to ride around the area. Rafford had provided him with a list of farms and it did not take him long to realise that those that looked most run-down did indeed belong to Cullenmore. By noon Perry had reached the southernmost of his properties. He consulted the notes Rafford had made for him. The farm nearest him must be Totfield. It had a newly constructed barn and well-maintained buildings while the other, he glanced back at his notes, was Beechwood Farm, and a complete contrast. It was in a much worse state than anything else he had seen
. The farmhouse roof dipped alarmingly and on the far side of the yard, one building stood without any roof at all. He slowed his horse. A family called Tisted lived here, Rafford had recorded, and had done so since his grandfather's time.

  A woman was in the yard, scattering corn from a basket for the hens clucking about her feet. She looked up when Perry drew rein at the gate.

  'Can I help 'ee?'

  He tried his most charming smile.

  'I have been riding all morning, and the sun has given me a raging thirst. Do you have any small ale brewed?' She scrutinised him for a long moment and he added, 'I shall pay for it, naturally.'

  She nodded. 'Aye, I have a barrel ready. Would 'ee like to come in and rest a-while?'

  'That is most kind, thank you.'

  While Perry dismounted and came in through the gate she upturned the basket and shook out the final grains before stepping briefly into the house and calling to someone.

  By the time Perry had closed the gate she had returned to the yard, followed by a young boy.

  'Jimmy here will look to your horse, sir, if you'd like to step into the parlour.'

  He followed her through the passage and into a small square room. It was clean but sparsely furnished with a dining table and chairs in the centre of the room and a heavy dark sideboard against one wall. Two unpadded armchairs flanked the fireplace, and in one of them sat a man in homespuns, a clay pipe between his teeth and one foot resting on a stool. His face was lined and weather beaten, but he gave Perry a friendly smile.

  My husband,' said the woman, by way of introduction.

  The older man put one hand up to his grey hair. Perry thought if he had been wearing a cap he would have doffed it.

  'Henry Tisted, sir. I beg pardon for not standin', but I broke me leg a month since and it ain't healed properly yet. Sit ye down at the table, and the missus'll find 'ee somat to drink.'

  Perry thanked him and lowered his long frame into the second armchair. He waved towards the man's leg.

  'How did it happen?'

  'One o' the heifers trampled me. Lucky 'twasn't any worse.' The old man knocked out his pipe into the empty hearth.

  'Does it pain you still?' asked Perry.

  'Not so much now. We had the sawbones set it, but it ain't right yet.'

  His wife returned with a tankard of ale for each man and a plate of oat biscuits, which she placed on the table beside Perry.

  'Then who runs the farm?' he asked.

  Mrs Tisted straightened. 'Harry, my eldest. He is nearly sixteen and a good lad, tho' he lacks his father's knowledge, of course. But he and Jimmy muddle through pretty well, and I give what help I can.'

  'It must be very hard for you,' he said, glancing around him. 'To keep house and farm running.'

  'I manage.' He noticed a shadow pass across her homely features. 'My daughter helps, but she is just now staying with my sister in Farnham. It will be easier when I have her back. She should be home again before the harvest.'

  'And that is important?'

  She looked at him as if he were a simpleton but it was her husband who answered, saying patiently, 'If we have nothing to sell then we can't pay the rent.'

  Perry took another long draught from the tankard. 'But surely your landlord will make allowances, in the circumstances.'

  Mrs Tisted gave a snort and her husband frowned at her, a gentle rebuke in his face.

  'Times are very hard, sir, very hard. The war has taken its toll of all of us.'

  'And who is your landlord?' asked Perry, sipping his ale.

  'This is the Duke of Cullenmore's land, he owns most o' the farms hereabouts.'

  'Not that he cares much for it,' said his wife, bitterly. 'The roof's been leaking for years and he's done nothing. The estate won't help, we've asked Mr Grieves. How they expect us to find money for repairs and improvements when the rents keep going up I don't know.'

  Perry frowned. Rafford had said the rent had not changed for a decade, hadn't he? He said now, 'That is indeed difficult. When was the last increase in rent?'

  She looked at her husband. 'That would be, what, twelve months since? And it'll go up again at Michaelmas.'

  'Oh?' Perry reached for a biscuit and tried to sound offhand. 'Have you been given a reason for it?'

  She gave another snort of derision. 'What reason do these great men need?'

  'He's new, you see, the duke,' the old farmer explained. 'Just inherited and keen to make more money from the land.'

  'Aye, and if we can't pay we'll be thrown out!' exclaimed his wife, her face crumpling. 'Mr Grieves has told us the duke won't be moved on that point.'

  'Now now, Peggy, it won't come to that, I'm sure. I'll be up and about again soon, and our Martha will be back by then, to help in the dairy.'

  The woman nodded, wiping her eyes on her apron, but she looked far from convinced.

  'Your husband is right, you should not worry about that yet.' Perry drained his tankard and put it down. 'I thank you for the ale and cake, Mistress. I must be on my way.'

  He took a coin from his purse and put it on the table before picking up his hat and gloves.

  'Half a crown!' The woman stared at it then at Perry. 'I beg your pardon, sir, but I can't change that.'

  'I don't want change,' he told her, his eyes shifting from the wife to her husband. 'I am grateful to you, for the information as well as the ale. Good day to you.'

  He strode out of the farm and as he crossed the yard to his horse, he was aware of the farmer's wife hurrying after him.

  'You won't go spreading around what we've told you, I hope,' she said anxiously.

  Perry turned to look at her. 'Of course not, but you have said nothing out of the way.'

  'No, but Mr Grieves, he,' she twisted her apron between her hands, 'he's very much the duke's man, and if he thought we'd been talking out of turn―'

  'You may rest assured you have not,' said Perry. He looked down at the little boy who was patiently holding the reins of his hired horse. 'Now, Jimmy, is it not? Can you hold this beast steady while I mount up? Thank you.'

  Perry settled himself in the saddle and gathered up the reins.

  'Pray do not worry, Mrs Tisted, I am sure everything will work out for you.' He touched his hat, then tossed a coin to Jimmy before trotting out of the yard. The little boy's voice reached him as he turned into the lane.

  'Ma, Ma, it's a silver sixpence. He's given me a silver sixpence!'

  CHAPTER SIX

  It was five o'clock before Perry arrived at Duke's Folly. He had followed up his visit to Beechwood Farm with calls upon more of the tenant farms on his way back to Hyndmarsh. From his observations of the land, and the little he gleaned in conversation with those who had time to speak to him, the farmers were barely making ends meet. The exception was Totfield, where a young farmhand told him the master had gone to town to collect his new gig. Perry had not liked to press too hard for information, but he was puzzled by the difference between Totfield and the other farms he had seen. Perhaps it was down to more modern farming practices, but it seemed odd to him that one of his tenants should be doing so much better than his neighbours. He pushed the thoughts from his mind as he drove the curricle into the castle yard. Enough time tomorrow to make further enquiries about Mr Grieves.

  The boys were waiting for him, Armand hopping from one foot to the other in excitement. As he brought the curricle to a stand, Hugh invited him politely to step inside for some refreshment.

  'I'm afraid Wragg will have to look after the horses, though,' he added, throwing an apologetic smile towards the groom. 'Owen has taken Sophie into Hyndmarsh. An urgent errand, I'm afraid, and she sends her apologies that she will not be able to drive out with you after all.'

  'I see. Well, I am sure Wragg would enjoy a cool drink, so he may remain here, but there is no need for us to delay. My greys are barely warmed up, so which one of you would like to drive out with me first?'

  For the next couple of hours Perry tooled his curricle th
rough the lanes around Hyndmarsh Lake, first with Armand and then Hugh, giving each boy a chance to handle the ribbons. He enjoyed it, but it did not fully occupy his mind, and he found himself wondering whether Sophie was avoiding him. The stab of disappointment he had felt when Hugh had told him she had gone to Hyndmarsh indicated how much he had been looking forward to seeing her.

  'Perhaps it's for the best,' he told himself as he sat beside Hugh, who needed little guidance in driving the greys, 'I would not want her forming an attachment, I would not want to raise hopes that cannot be fulfilled.'

  However, when they drove back to the castle and Hugh again invited him to step inside for refreshments, he accepted, hoping that perhaps Sophie might return before he was obliged to take his leave.

  Sophie left Owen to look after the gig while she made her purchases. There was very little on her list, a few groceries that Joan had told her were required, more ink and paper for Papa which she would buy from Mr Bonworth. Nothing really urgent, but she had thought it necessary to be out of the house when Mr Wyre called. She was growing too fond of him, and that would never do. After all, what did they know of him, save that he was a personable stranger? He had said himself that he would not be there for more a couple of weeks so it was best that she keep out of his way.

  Sophie knew little of the world, but she had read widely. She was aware that gentlemen often amused themselves by dallying with pretty young women and while she might be flattered that any man should think her pretty enough to flirt with, she had no intention of losing her heart. Thus, she had decided it would be better not to drive out with him today. However, she had been afraid that when the time came, if he was standing before her and smiling at her in the way that set her pulse racing, her resolve would crumble.

  She paused to browse the watchmaker's window. The timepieces there told her it was just gone five. She could not tarry much longer, although she might perhaps call on Miss Flynn, who lived just off the High Street. Miss Flynn was an elderly spinster who lived on a pittance in her two rooms above a haberdasher's, where she helped out when required. It was said she had had a disappointment in her youth but she never spoke of it and Sophie never asked. The old lady had been very kind to her as a child and Sophie knew she would appreciate a visit.