Scandal at Greystone Manor

by Mary Nichols

  ‘I expressed the wish to beat her brother.’

  Drew laughed. ‘Oh, I assume you told her of our meeting with Lord Bolsover.’

  ‘Yes, but she already knew some of what Teddy had been up to but, I suspect, not the whole. It makes me angry the way everyone in that family leans on Jane and expects her to fetch them out of whatever bumblebath they have tumbled into.’

  ‘Is that so?’

  ‘Yes. She has given up everything for them and is now proposing to use her own money to pay off Teddy’s debt.’

  ‘Does she know how much that is?’

  ‘I don’t think so. Nor do I think she has enough. According to Isabel, their grandmother left each of the girls a little money for a dowry. Isabel has already spent hers on her trousseau, so it cannot have been a great amount.’

  ‘Tell me,’ Drew said thoughtfully. ‘Why did you choose Isabel over Jane, when you so clearly have a high regard for her?’

  Mark hesitated before replying, trying to find a satisfactory answer. ‘A high regard is not love, is it? Jane has much to commend her, but I did not think of her in that way. Everyone, and that includes me, simply accepted that she was not going to marry and it became easy to think of her as Isabel’s unmarried sister. Unfair, perhaps, but that is the way of it.’ How unfair he was only now beginning to realise.

  ‘And Isabel?’

  ‘Isabel is beautiful and lively and she loves me. What more can a man ask?’

  ‘What indeed,’ Drew murmured.

  ‘Have you never been in love?’

  ‘Frequently. I have been in love with every mistress while it lasts, but it never does. They always reveal their true colours in the end.’

  ‘Then you have not been in love at all. Love is meant to last a lifetime.’

  ‘Is that so?’

  ‘Yes. I fear you are too cynical, Drew. What has made you like that? Have you been disappointed?’

  ‘I have just said so. Frequently.’

  ‘I was not talking about mistresses and you know it. I meant a proper young lady.’ He paused, remembering something Drew had said. ‘Oh, the young lady who turned you down. That hurt, did it not?’

  ‘At the time, yes.’

  ‘So have you come back to try again?’

  ‘No. It happened too long ago, we are both changed.’

  ‘Who is she?’

  ‘That would be telling.’

  ‘Then tell.’

  ‘One day, perhaps. Now can we change the subject? I find it exceedingly boring.’

  Mark laughed. ‘Very well, keep your secrets. Would you like to ride this afternoon? We could go round the estate and across the common to the fen. I can find you a good mount.’

  ‘An excellent idea.’

  They turned in at the wrought-iron gates of Broadacres and made their way up the gravel drive to the house. It was a very large house, testament to the wealth of the Wyndham forebears who had built it. Almost a castle, it had a turret on each of its four corners and a cantilevered flight of stone steps up to a huge oaken front door. Four storeys high and with a crenellated roof decorated with carvings, its long windows reflected the sun and shone like a myriad of mirrors. Mark loved it. It was his inheritance and it was to this home he would bring his bride. It was certainly extensive enough to support two families; he did not need or want to find another home for himself and Isabel.

  ‘What do you think of Broadacres?’ he asked his friend. ‘Is it as you remember it?’

  ‘Yes. Even better. Lord Wyndham has a good estate manager, methinks.’

  ‘The best, but my father likes to involve himself in the running of it and he always tries to include me in any decisions, so when the time comes—though I pray it is a long time off—I will be able to take over with little or no disruption.’

  ‘You have your life planned out so neatly, Mark, does nothing ever upset your equilibrium?’

  ‘Occasionally, but I try not to let it. To be constantly up in the boughs is not good for one’s health.’

  Drew laughed. ‘Then you and I must differ. I like a little excitement, doing something out of the ordinary just to feel I am alive.’

  ‘Was India not exciting enough?’

  ‘It had its moments.’

  ‘Tell me about it. I promised Isabel we would travel widely for our wedding trip and India might be the place to go.’

  ‘It is an extraordinary continent. There is enormous wealth and abject poverty side by side, and there are always battles of one kind or another between the natives and the East India Company. It is also very beautiful if you can tolerate the heat. The best place to be in the summer months is up in the mountains. If you really intend to go and I have bought my ship, you could take passage on her. It will be my wedding gift to you both.’

  ‘That is very generous of you, thank you.’

  ‘Not at all. You and your parents have been generous to me. I have not forgotten that.’

  ‘We shall have to find you a bride.’

  ‘If I need a bride, I will find one for myself,’ Drew said. ‘I abhor matchmakers. Begging your pardon, my friend.’

  Mark laughed and they climbed the steps and entered the cool interior of the house.

  * * *

  Jane walked home with her head in a whirl of mixed emotions. The last few days had upset the even tenor of her life. From helping her sister with her wedding, determined to make it the best she possibly could in the hope that it would settle her demons, she had been flung into what she could only call disarray. First there was Teddy and his problems, which were bad enough, then her father’s revelation that they were not nearly as comfortable financially as everyone thought and now the sudden arrival of a ghost from the past which unnerved her. Was she as immune to him as she had always hoped she would be if they ever met again? Only time would tell; he had taken her breath away and made her heart beat fast, but what did that signify except surprise? How long did he intend to stay? According to Mark he was down for the wedding, still three weeks away. And to top it all, Mark had seen her cry and had taken her in his arms and the demon that sat on her shoulder had done a little dance of glee. At all costs she must conquer it.

  She took the long way home in order to calm herself and put her mind to what was important, so she turned down a quiet lane that led into the ancient wood which shielded the house from the north wind that came down from the Arctic with nothing in its way to stop it.

  The woods were quiet, but there were sounds if one took the trouble to listen. The song of the birds, always stronger in spring; the cooing of pigeons; the rustling of small animals in the last of the dead leaves; the sighing of the wind in the tree tops; the distant barking of a dog; her own, almost silent, footsteps. And there were other things to see and note: the buds on the chestnut trees; the unfurling of pale, new bracken stems; bluebells with their gently nodding heads; the odd browned leaf hanging on the bare branch of an oak, not yet in new leaf; a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis and drying its wings in a patch of sunlight filtering through the branches. Spring was a time of new beginnings, of hope. Where was her life going from here? Would she go on as she had been doing for the last ten years, or would it take a different direction? How could she best help her father?

  She emerged on to the lane, crossed the narrow road and went through a gate which led to the back of the house. She stood a moment to look at it. It was old, but not as old as Broadacres, having been built just before the Civil War, when it was sequestered by the Parliamentarians and given to her father’s ancestors for their service to the cause. They seemed not to have suffered for their allegiance because in the subsequent restoration of the monarchy, they had been allowed to keep the prize. It had all happened a hundred and fifty years before and Sir Edward rarely spoke of it. Jane had deduced he was perhaps a little d
isappointed that his forebears had not been granted a peerage, which would have set him above the common people. He made up for it with aspirations for his daughters, which was why he had been so against any connection between Jane and Andrew Ashton. Jane, who adored her father and always obeyed him, had sent her suitor away.

  It would be untrue to say she had mourned his going ever since. She grieved for a year or so and then pulled herself together to settle into her role as the unmarried daughter and everyone’s hopes had turned on Isabel. A marriage between Mark and Isabel had been talked of for years, but he had not formally proposed until he came back from the war. Ever since then everyone’s attention had been concentrated on the wedding. But now, it seemed, that was destined to be overshadowed by financial problems. Her father had asked her to think of ways of retrenchment and she had so far done nothing about it. She would do so that very afternoon and draw up a list.

  Pulling herself up, she quickened her pace and was soon indoors. Having shed her shawl and bonnet in her room, she went downstairs to the small parlour where she found her mother and Isabel scrutinising the guest list for the wedding. Most of their close friends and neighbours knew about it already, but there were others further afield that Lady Cavenhurst felt ought to be invited. In that they were at loggerheads with Sir Edward.

  ‘Papa says we do not need to invite so many,’ Isabel complained when Jane took a seat beside them. ‘He says it is all getting out of hand and we must limit the number to fifty, when I had been planning on a hundred and fifty, at least.’

  ‘Do we really know that many people?’ Jane asked mildly.

  ‘Of course we do. Papa is being unreasonable.’

  ‘No doubt he has his reasons. Let me look at the list.’

  Isabel handed it to her. ‘But there is everyone here you have ever spoken half-a-dozen words to, Issie,’ she said, scanning it quickly. ‘They would only come to stuff themselves at the banquet and not to wish you well. Would it not be better for it to be a little more intimate, with only close relations and friends who would be happy for you? Mark, I notice, has not asked for a great number to be invited and you do not want his guests to be overwhelmed by yours, do you? It would look like a slight, an effort to diminish him.’

  ‘Would it? I hadn’t thought of that. Now you have put a doubt in my mind. Mama, shall we cross some of them off?’

  ‘Perhaps we should take another look at it,’ her ladyship said. ‘But we really cannot limit our guests to fifty—that would be parsimonious.’

  It was evident to Jane that her mother either did not know or was shutting her eyes to the extent of their financial problems and her father had lacked the courage to tell her. Unless she had badly misjudged the situation he would have to do so soon

  ‘There is one that will not be coming, I have discovered. I met Mark in the village and he told me Jonathan Smythe has been called away to a relation’s death bed and he has appointed a new groomsman. No doubt he will tell you when he sees you.’

  ‘Which will be tomorrow evening,’ Lady Cavenhurst said. ‘We are all invited to Broadacres for supper.’

  ‘All of us?’ Jane queried, her heart sinking.

  ‘Yes, of course. Lady Wyndham would not leave anyone out, would she? Did Mark say who his new groomsman is to be?’

  ‘Yes. Mr Andrew Ashton. He was with Mark when I met him.’

  ‘Ashton!’ exclaimed her mother. ‘Why on earth did he choose him?’

  ‘He is an old friend of Mark’s, Mama, so why not?’

  ‘Andrew Ashton,’ Isabel murmured. ‘Didn’t he come and stay at Broadacres years ago?’

  ‘I believe he did.’ Jane said. ‘He is much changed, having come back from India after making his fortune there.’

  ‘India! Mark has said we may go there for our wedding trip. I shall enjoy asking Mr Ashton all about it. Mama, what shall we wear for this supper party? Is it to be formal?’

  ‘No, dear, Lady Wyndham says informal on her invitation and there is to be music and cards.’

  ‘Then we must contrive to keep Teddy away from the card table,’ Jane said, a remark upon which they all agreed.

  * * *

  The interior of Broadacres was as imposing as the exterior. It had a grand entrance hall where the cantilevered staircase of the outside was repeated with the addition of a wrought-iron balustrade. There was a long gallery lined on one side with paintings, not only of the family, but of landscapes and seascapes, horses, dogs and cattle. There were long windows on the other side, which looked out over the sweep of the carriage drive. Chairs and sofas were placed at intervals and a long Turkish carpet laid down the centre covered the stone flags. Off this gallery were several beautifully furnished reception rooms, a book room, a formal dining room and at the far end, occupying the whole of the ground floor of one wing, a magnificent ball room. Upstairs the bedchambers were equally spacious and well equipped.

  ‘To think this will be your home,’ Jane whispered to Isabel as they were conducted down the gallery and along a corridor to the family withdrawing room. Ahead of them marched Sir Edward and Lady Cavenhurst and an unusually subdued Teddy. ‘You will one day be mistress of it.’

  ‘Oh, don’t say that. It terrifies me. I wish we could have our own place, something smaller and less grand, but Mark will not hear of it. He says it is so big we need never come across his parents if we do not wish to.’

  ‘I am sure you will manage very well.’

  The footman who was conducting them opened the door of the withdrawing room and announced them one by one as they entered. As Lady Wyndham came forward to greet Sir Edward and his wife, Jane looked about her. Although it was a grand room, it had a comfortable feel about it, as if real people lived in it and used it, unlike the public rooms at the front of the building which seemed cold and impersonal.

  She came out of her reverie when she heard Lady Wyndham introducing Drew to her father and mother and Sir Edward’s response. ‘I believe we have met, sir.’

  ‘Indeed, you have,’ Mark put in. ‘Mr Ashton stayed with us for a few weeks when we left Cambridge. That was... How long ago, Drew?’

  ‘I do believe it was all of ten years,’ Drew responded. ‘So long that I am not at all surprised that Sir Edward has forgot me. I was but a stripling with pockets to let.’

  ‘Now he is a nabob.’ Mark laughed. ‘As rich as Golden Ball and certainly no stripling.’

  ‘That much is evident,’ Sir Edward said. Jane knew he was remembering and wondering if he had come to renew his suit. She had wondered about that herself, but dismissed the idea. Too much water had flowed under the bridge in those years.

  Lady Wyndham turned to Jane. ‘Do I need to introduce you to our guest, Jane?’

  ‘No, for I remember him very well, but I doubt Isabel and Sophie do.’

  ‘No, I don’t,’ Sophie said. ‘I never met a nabob either. What does a nabob do?’ She addressed her last remark to Drew, who was bowing in front of her.

  ‘He trades in India, Miss Sophie,’ he said. ‘He sends Indian artefacts, spices and jewels back to these islands in fast ships and they return with items of English manufacture, furniture, ornaments, gowns, those sorts of things, and thereby he makes a profit.’

  ‘And have you made a good profit, Mr Ashton?’ This came from Isabel, who had been standing beside her sister, staring at Drew in fascination.

  He bowed to her. ‘Tolerable, Miss Isabel. You see, I do remember you, though you were still at your lessons at the time.’

  ‘Let us sit down until supper is served,’ Lady Wyndham said, ushering them towards chairs and sofas.

  They arranged themselves about the room and Isabel contrived to be sitting next to Drew. ‘Do tell me about India,’ she said. ‘Mark has promised to take me there after we are married and I would like to learn all I can before we go. Tell me, is it nece
ssary to speak the language and wear... What do they call those gowns the natives wear?’

  ‘Saris, Miss Isabel. They are more intricate than they look, but they are very cool in the heat and the fabrics are superb. I have known European women take to them when the heat has become too much.’

  ‘Oh, I should dearly like to try one.’

  ‘I am sure you would look charming,’ he said.

  ‘And what about the language? Is it difficult to learn?’

  ‘There are several languages in India, but you would not need to learn any of them. The native servants speak a kind of pidgin English and, apart from visits to the bazaar, you would not need to communicate with other natives. And you would never go to the bazaar unless accompanied by someone familiar with the language and customs.’

  Jane watched this exchange with some misgiving. It was not polite of her sister to monopolise the gentleman, certainly not at the expense of Mark, who was standing by the window watching them. On the pretence of looking out at the terrace and formal gardens beyond it, she went over to stand beside him.

  ‘She means no harm, Mark,’ she whispered. ‘She is simply interested because you said you would take her to India.’

  ‘I know.’

  A footman came to tell them supper was served and they made their way into the dining room. They were silent while the servants waited on them, but the conversation began again when they stood aside, this time led by Lord Wyndham and Sir Edward, who began a discussion about the dire state of the nation’s economy. The year before had been miserable, with no summer to speak of, the crops failing and labourers and returning soldiers out of work. There was unrest among them everywhere. At the end of the year there had been a mass meeting at Spa Fields, addressed by Henry Hunt, who had a gift for rabble-rousing, and the whole thing had got out of hand and had to be quelled by the militia. Revolutionary plots were being uncovered everywhere, which had led the Government to suspend habeas corpus and outlaw seditious meetings.

  ‘It is a mercy we have escaped here in Hadlea,’ his lordship said. ‘I have managed to keep all my men employed and even take on one or two more. No doubt it is the same with you, Cavenhurst?’