All things considered, James was in an unusually cheerful mood during the days preceding their departure. He called but once in Mount Row, as purely a matter of form, but he was not unduly cast down when he was informed that Ruth was not at home. A Mrs. Calderwith in Arlington Street was always at home to him, and he took himself there without delay.
James had intended to take his traveling carriage into Somerset, but he was more than pleased to learn that Steyne expected to carry the two men in his own. Having accepted this boon, he made no effort to defray any of the expenses involved in posting charges. They spent one night at the Haunch of Venison in Salisbury, where James could see no possible means of avoiding his own expense, so he paid for his room and meals without demur, noting only that Steyne was rather open-handed with his gratuities.
After Salisbury they left the mail coach route to make their way across country on poorly surfaced roads which called forth James’ frequent aspersions as far as Taunton, and afterward, his oaths.
"What the hell do they do with the money they collect from me for repairing the roads?” he grumbled as the carriage rumbled through yet another cavity, jostling him against the side. "I'd never set foot outside London . . ." he began, before realizing that he had told Steyne he would willingly live with his sister in the country if that were her choice.
But Steyne was apparently paying no attention to him. They were passing through Bishops Lydeard and the viscount was gazing out at the double-windowed belfry of the church tower. James found Steyne’s habit of ignoring him slightly unnerving, though on this occasion it was just as well. Throughout the journey Steyne had alternately watched the passing landscape with a brooding expression, or read the book he carried with him, something in French which James was too uninterested in to ask about. Their conversation had been minimal, except during meals, when the viscount was invariably charming and fully open to discussing anything which came to James’ mind.
One matter which James had not seen fit to discuss was where they would be staying. He knew that Steyne assumed they were bound for Fairlight, and in a manner of speaking they were, but as they approached the turnoff for Channock, he interrupted his companion's meditations. "You should tell the postboys to take this right coming up.”
As always, Steyne was imperturbable. He let down the window and gave the necessary instruction, but when he had finished he turned to James. Though he said nothing, his very look was as good as a question.
"Umm, you must understand, my dear Steyne, that Fairlight has not been inhabited for some time. Everything’s in holland covers, and the staff is of the smallest. When I journey into this part of the country I stay at Charton Court, my brother’s seat. Quite natural, since I’m called to see to family business.”
A slight tightening of the lips betrayed Steyne’s annoyance. "All very well for you, James, but the same does not apply to me. I have some acquaintance with Eastwick; with his wife I have very little.”
"You refine too much on it, old fellow. I’ve written to tell them I was bringing someone with me.”
"Very thoughtful of you. Why didn’t you tell me?”
James affected a look of surprise. “I felt sure you realized that we could not well stay at Fairlight.”
"With the amount of notice you were able to give, what I assumed was that your household would prepare the place for your occupation.”
Shifting uncomfortably on the seat, James attempted another tack. “You’ll enjoy Charton Court. Lady Eastwick is a featherhead, but charming. Young Edward is a stiff sort of fellow, though well-meaning, I’m sure. The children won’t bother you; they’re reasonably well behaved. And they have a governess to keep them in line.” James smiled rakishly. “Ah, the governess. A bit hasty with her hat pin, but worth it. Well past the first blush, but striking-looking nonetheless. This was before I became better acquainted with your sister, of course,” he hastened to add at the dangerous light in Steyne’s eyes.
His companion said nothing as they came to Channock and the postboys were instructed to deliver them to Charton Court. Accustomed to buildings of its size being in stone, Steyne was struck by the beauty of the red brick. There were battlemented towers at four corners, though the building was far from a square, with projections everywhere and a crazy jumble of chimneys on the rooftops. Steyne saw at least two drawbridges, now ornamental, over the dry moat, and over the entrance porch was an archway with the royal arms of England surmounted by a crown inscribed Dom Rex Henricus VII. A glimpse of a topiary and the setting of rolling hills completed the remarkable impression Charton Court made on Steyne’s mind even before he entered the building. It is fortunate that first impressions are lasting, and that his was excellent, for when they were welcomed into the house by the butler, Fyfield, they were informed that not one member of the household was at home.
Steyne’s expression was unreadable; James hastened into speech. “You must know that I always make a full two-day journey of it. Never reach here until almost dinner time. You were the one who wanted to be on the road at the light of dawn. Dare say my sister-in-law thought they’d be back in plenty of time for my arrival.”
“Just so, sir,” the butler murmured. “You are expected. My lady has had two rooms in the South Wing prepared.”
Nettled by Steyne’s lack of response to this information, James followed the butler without further comment. Their valises were brought from the post chaise by a pair of footmen who silently followed the procession up the stairs and through a series of corridors to the South Wing where James and his companion were given elegantly furnished rooms on opposite sides of the hall. Steyne was assured that a can of hot water would arrive momentarily for his ablutions, and he thankfully shut the door for some solitary reflection. The view from his window was out over the topiary to the sculpted lawns beyond, which meant that James had a room facing onto the courtyard. Understandable, Steyne thought irritably. Looking onto the courtyard would give James the constricted sort of atmosphere he doted on in London.
Arriving at a house as an uninvited guest was not Steyne’s idea of a comfortable position in which to be, and that James had barreled him into it only served to heighten the annoyance he felt for his would-be brother-in-law. In fact, Steyne considered his position at Charton Court perfectly untenable. There was a tap at his door, and he turned to watch a strapping country girl enter and fill the wash-hand basin.
“Will there be anything else you’ll be needing, sir?”
“Nothing, thank you.”
Naturally they didn’t even know who he was, he thought mournfully. Just like James not to mention who he was bringing in his letter, and not to introduce his companion to the butler when they arrived. If they had known, the girl would have called him “my lord.” Steyne shook his head and proceeded to wash off the dust of the road. He had not even brought his valet, thinking that a few days at Fairlight would require nothing more strenuous than outfitting himself in country clothes, his favorite wear in any case.
Here it would be necessary to dress for dinner each evening, and though he had brought one decently formal outfit, he had brought only one, much to Housett’s disgust. Steyne sighed as he exchanged his dusty, crumpled cravat for a fresh one whose folds, if acceptable, could never achieve the distinction that Housett managed to give them.
* * * *
Depending on how one looked at it, the Charton Court party’s visit to The Beeches—home of Mr. and Mrs. Hedgerley—had been informative, uninformative, interesting, boring, delightful, a waste of time, etc. Lady Eastwick had been pleased to see her old friends and Theodosia and the children had done a bit of exploring since the Beeches was one of the spots marked on the old map, but aside from its being a lovely old manor house, they had made no discoveries of importance. Lady Eastwick, though thoroughly enjoying herself, finally rose and explained, "My husband’s brother James is coming today and I should cut some flowers in honor of his arrival. I hope he’ll be on time to dine. He forgets, I think, that we keep ear
lier hours in the country. I’ve warned our cook, though. James is to bring someone with him, but didn’t mention whom.”
In the carriage on the drive back to Charton Court Lady Eastwick confessed to Theodosia that James had once before brought a friend with him, and a very ramshackle fellow he had been. Oh, it was years ago but she still remembered the carelessness with which they had observed the hours at the Court.
"Never once on time for dinner, and as often as not eating at the inn. Cook was threatening to turn in his spoon. James was better when he was down in the spring. I had Edward speak to him. Well, you can understand at such a time I didn’t wish to have the whole household upset on his behalf.”
Lady Eastwick lowered her voice so the children, chatting away opposite them, would not hear. “He has brought women, too, you know. Not to the Court, of course, after the first time, but to Fairlight. And then he expects me to invite them to dine! Really, he is the most unaccountable fellow. How could I do such a thing when the older children dine with us? Charlotte was only thirteen the last time, but she had been dining with us for a year, so grown up as she seemed. And even the younger ones are allowed to come for the last course once they can behave in polite company."
When Lady Eastwick was informed at the door that her brother-in-law had already arrived, her dismay was almost comical. “Before two? He’s never gotten here before four. Oh, Lord, what must he think of us—all gone out visiting. Of course I know you have done everything to make him comfortable. Where is he, Fyfield?”
“In the Gold Parlor, milady.”
Theodosia realized that her employer didn’t wish to have all the children hovering about while she apologized for their absence, so the governess hustled them off in the direction of the schoolroom with a promise of tea and a story. Smiling her gratitude, Lady Eastwick squared her fragile shoulders and stepped forward to greet the least favorite of her husband’s relations. As Fyfield opened the door for her, she realized that Edward had followed, in his role of host, and she now heard him exclaim, “Good God! Who would have thought?”
James’ companion was no less of a surprise to her, though she managed to disguise her astonishment better than her son. It was true that she was barely acquainted with Lord Steyne, but she knew his sister well and would have recognized him anywhere. The ruggedly masculine face, the cleft chin, the knowledgeable brown eyes. Why in heaven’s name had James not told her who he was bringing? And, what was more to the point, why would Lord Steyne have agreed to go anywhere with James?
When finally introductions were the least necessary, James seemed to remember that they were called for, and presented his companion with a decided flourish. Edward shook his hand gravely and Lady Eastwick extended a warm welcome.
“You are kind, ma’am,” Steyne replied a little ruefully. “I had thought we were to stay at Fairlight, and had no intention of imposing on your hospitality.”
“I’ve explained to Steyne,” James interposed with one of the smiles that most irritated Edward, “that I always stay here, since Fairlight is in no condition to receive houseguests at a moment’s notice.”
As acting head of household, though, and because he had always admired Steyne from a distance, Edward promptly seconded his mother’s welcome. “We’re honored to have you, Lord Steyne. Is your room satisfactory? Mother has put you in the South Wing, hasn’t she? If you would prefer a view of the hills, we can easily arrange that.”
Lord Steyne declined this offer while James’ lips curled in sardonic amusement. James had known that his nephew would toady to such a noted sportsman and distinguished peer. He had forgotten, however, that Lady Eastwick was a friend of Ruth Morrison’s, but, listening to her anxious inquiries of the widow, he now saw this as an advantage. Everything was working out precisely as he could have wished.
* * * *
The one offer Steyne was unable to refuse was the loan of Edward’s valet to assist him in dressing for dinner. Valet was, in this instance, a rather grand title for the eager lad who appeared an hour before the appointed time for the meal. The boy showed not the least surprise that Steyne had only one set of dress clothing among the contents of the modest valise, and his services, though far from the expertise of Housett, were certainly useful in adjusting the tight-fitting coat to Steyne’s broad shoulders. Knowing that Edward would need the boy, Steyne soon dismissed him with his thanks and stood staring out over the garden and lawns, reminded of Kingswood and feeling a sudden urge to be at home. There was nothing amiss in the Somerset landscape, but Kent and his own home were a deal more familiar to him. He couldn’t fault the welcome he’d received, but it galled him that James had maneuvered him into Charton Court with such ease, and with his typical carelessness of anyone else’s convenience.
Steyne was feeling restless. He had no wish to be the first downstairs and, unaccountably, memories of other visits to Somerset were crowding in on him. In an effort to stave off the past, which if not forgotten should have been, he wandered out into the hall and in the opposite direction from the main staircase. If memory served, the entrance porch had been only a story high and with luck one would be able to stand out on its battlemented rooftop for a view of the hills. As he approached the West Wing, he could hear voices, and he considered retracing his steps until he heard someone say: "I'm sure, dear Charlotte, that your mother did not have quite that gown in mind when she urged you to dress especially well for the company.” There was a warm chuckle in her voice when she said, "We are, after all, in the country, and our guests are only your uncle and a friend, not the Duke of York and his Duchess.”
For the moment before they rounded the corner to enter his corridor, Steyne stood perfectly still, unable to believe what he heard. There could be no mistake, however, when Charlotte and Theodosia appeared before him. Despite the dimness of the hallway, and— what was it? six years?—he knew her instantly. “Doe?! What the devil are you doing here?”
Theodosia’s footsteps faltered as she blinked at him uncertainly. “Lord Steyne? I might ask you the same.” Gradually a smile widened on her lips and she moved forward with hand outstretched. “How astonishing to see you again. You must have come with James Heythrop. May I present Lady Charlotte Heythrop? Charlotte, Viscount Steyne.”
Grudgingly Steyne switched his glance from Theodosia to the oldest of the Heythrop girls. A pretty child, frankly curious as to this meeting of former acquaintances. “Lady Charlotte." His bow necessitated he drop Theodosia’s hand, which he had unconsciously retained.
A rather breathless silence all around was broken by Theodosia’s asking, “Have you lost your way? We were just headed down to dinner, if you wish to accompany us.”
“No. That is, I had planned to see the view from above the entrance porch, but I would be honored to escort you.” He addressed himself to Theodosia. "You haven’t answered my question.”
“I live here, Lord Steyne,” she replied, a laugh dancing in her eyes.
"You live here?” He did a hasty calculation as to whether it was possible she was married to Edward, but decided it was totally out of the question. Surely Edward was the oldest of them. He knew that she was not related to the Heythrops. Abandoning his attempt to figure it out, he asked bluntly, "Why?"
"I'm the girls’ governess, and have been for the last three years.”
Charlotte was fascinated by the incredulous look he bestowed on Miss Tremere. “Impossible!” he scoffed. “My aunt said you were to marry that intolerable bore, Bayhurst.”
“Your aunt was mistaken, Lord Steyne.”
His aunt, he decided grimly, had been purposely mistaken. Purposely, cruelly mistaken. “But you left Chipstable when he did.”
“To come here, Lord Steyne. Mrs. Holmer was kind enough to recommend me to Lady Eastwick.” Theodosia glanced significantly at the wide-eyed Charlotte. “I don’t believe Charlotte’s uncle had mentioned whom he was bringing. Will you be going on to visit your aunt?”
“No.” Obedient to her hint, he turned to C
harlotte to express his admiration for the house and grounds. “Do you know when the house was built?”
“Precisely,” Charlotte laughed, “though I wouldn’t have a few weeks ago. In 1492 it was completed, originally, but several later owners have made improvements.”
Steyne held the door for them as they entered the Long Gallery where the family customarily gathered for dinner when they had houseguests. It was paneled in oak, embellished by carved walnut medallions and portraits of dozens of Heythrop ancestors. They were the first to arrive, but Lady Eastwick shortly joined them.
"Oh, Mama, the most famous thing! Miss Tremere and Lord Steyne are known to one another.”
"How nice,” her mother replied, pleased. “Did you meet in London?”
“No,” Lord Steyne answered, “in Somerset. My aunt lives near Chipstable where Miss Tremere’s father had the living.”
James had entered in time to gather the essence of the exchange and he quickly tried to remember whether he had actually intimated to Steyne on their drive earliar in the day that he had succeeded in seducing the governess. Deciding that his statement had been open to interpretation, he dismissed the matter from his mind. Even parsons’ daughters were seducible, after all, if not perhaps this one.
Dinner conversation was lively, and rather heady stuff for Charlotte, who did not often sit down at table with two gallants just come from London. She was disappointed to learn that neither of them had met her friend Christina Winchmore, but it was a minor disappointment. London was a large city, with several different entertainments to go to each evening, so one could quite easily miss one single lady, no matter how charming. And besides, both her uncle and Lord Steyne were considerably older than Christina, who doubtless had a circle of friends closer to her age. Though her uncle directed most of his gossipy conversation toward Lady Eastwick, Lord Steyne divided his attention equally among the members of the small party. What pleasing manners he has, Charlotte decided. Though he was not nearly so handsome as Mr. Winstanley, she found him quite one of the nicest gentlemen she’d met.
In My Lady's Chamber Page 5
