The Earl's Mortal Enemy

by Issy Brooke

  “Mama, don’t be an old stick; let’s all go in for tea and cake. Haven’t you taught me hospitality is one of the highest virtues of a woman?”

  Adelia wanted to say, oh, you’re not so set against sociable company now, are you? But she bit her tongue.

  Mr Halifax said, “I should love to have tea and cake with two beautiful and refined creatures such as yourselves, but I regret that I am here on business. I am actually looking for Alf Pegsworth.”

  “My brother Alfred is indeed staying with us. Come inside and we shall find him,” Adelia said, and moved off before he could reply. They both followed her around the main part of the building and up the wide stairs into the lavish and surprisingly warm entrance hall. She always insisted on having a fire in this room. She felt it was the mark of a good household if guests were warmed as soon as they entered. Smith, her lady’s maid, appeared with her usual uncanny prescience out of a side-room almost immediately, and took hold of Adelia’s outdoor things.

  “Smith, is Mr Pegsworth around at all?” Adelia asked.

  “I have not seen him, my lady, but I will make enquiries right away.”

  “Thank you.”

  Smith melted away instantaneously and silently. Edith sniffed. “My maid is a bumbling fool, mama. How do you make them all as efficient as Smith?”

  “You don’t make them. You choose wisely and let them blossom.”

  “It must be difficult for anyone to blossom to their fullest when they can only ever be overshadowed by the beauty of two such fine ladies as yourselves,” Mr Halifax said.

  Adelia flared her nostrils.

  He grinned. “Ah, was that too much? Too – and I do not mean to labour the pun – too flowery? I do apologise. I can see that you are practical women of the world and pay little heed to the sort of sugary nonsense that London ladies clamour for. How refreshing.”

  “Mr Halifax,” Adelia said, talking over Edith who was dangerously close to uncharacteristic simpering, “Please do follow me to the parlour where you can wait for Mr Pegsworth in comfort. Are you sure that you would not like refreshments?”

  “Very well. I relent. That would be marvellous, thank you.” He soon settled himself comfortably in one of the ground floor parlours, nestling himself into a wide armchair and looking around with admiration on his face. “What a lovely room. What impeccable taste you have, Lady Calaway. I can see from where your daughter gets her looks, her intelligence and her own good taste. May I say what a delight your party was? Ivery Manor is simply stunning. Very Italian. Have you been to Rome?”

  “Of course,” Adelia said. “I particularly adore the mosaics in the Santa Maria in Trastevere. Do you know them?”

  “Oh yes, oh yes, very much so. The miracle of the snows was extraordinary.”

  “You might be thinking of the Basilica di Santa Maria Maggiore,” she suggested.

  “Yes, yes, the Santa Maria church,” he said, nodding as if he weren’t actually confusing two separate places. “Ah, wonderful Italy. And even more wonderful – here are the cakes!” He greeted the maid who came in with the same warmth as he had greeted Adelia and Edith. For that reason alone, she decided that on balance she did like the fellow. He was a little overpowering and she wasn’t sure she believed everything he said but at least he was not a snob.

  Until he then said to the maid, “Any sign of that scruffy article Pegsworth?”

  The maid shook her head and slid a glance towards Adelia. He clapped his hand over his mouth. “I do apologise, Lady Calaway – I had forgotten, for one moment, that he is your brother. My words do me great discredit and I am sorry.”

  Edith butted in. “I don’t think you need to be sorry, Mr Halifax. Uncle Alf could really do with smartening up a little. Mama, when he came to my birthday party, I was shocked to see how out of fashion his jacket was. Did you see how crumpled his shirt was? I am sure there were yellow patches on the cuffs, mama. Is he quite all right?”

  “I think he had been travelling for some time to get here,” Adelia said desperately.

  “No, he hadn’t,” Mr Halifax said. “We’d all been together in Southampton for weeks and I don’t think he changed his shirt once, haha!”

  “It doesn’t reflect well on the business,” Adelia said in alarm.

  Mr Halifax shrugged. “He’ll be out of sight of the customers, mostly. Maybe Froude will make him wear livery.”

  “What? Like a servant?” Adelia frowned. “What role does he have in the business?”

  “He’s not really in the business. I got him involved, you know. He has me to thank for it. It’s just some general dog’s-body work, if you’ll pardon the expression.”

  “He’s not a partner then?”

  Mr Halifax spluttered with laughter. “Oh, bless you, but no. He has his skills and his talents and I am sure they will be wisely used but no, he’s not exactly of the same calibre of business acumen as the rest of us.”

  He’s being used, Adelia thought. But then she corrected herself. No, he is being useful. A job is a job. It is something. She understood why Alf had not told them the truth directly. He had let them think he was a business partner, but of course, he was ashamed. She felt pity for him.

  Mr Halifax was watching her intently. She wondered how much of her thoughts had shown on her face, and she composed herself into a smile. The door clicked, and she said, “Oh – here he is now...”

  But it was not Alfred Pegsworth who entered, but George Montgomery. The stern-looking palaeontologist bowed in greeting but stared hard at Mr Halifax until he shoved the rest of the cake in his mouth, wiped his hands, and stood up.

  “George. You look like you want a word with me. Everything all right, old chap?” Mr Halifax spoke lightly, spraying crumbs, and he even risked a wink at Adelia.

  She pressed her lips together and did not respond.

  “No, everything is not all right,” Mr Montgomery said. “And yes, I do want a word. Why are you not at the inn? I have just now raced over here to see if any word of you was to be had – and here you are.”

  “I came looking for Alf.”

  “Mr Pegsworth is waiting for you – with the rest of us – back at the inn, just as we arranged. He can, at least, follow clear instructions. Unlike you.” Mr Montgomery spoke to Mr Halifax like he was a headmaster admonishing a child. Then he turned to Adelia. “Lady Calaway, Lady Ivery; please forgive my intrusion. Halifax, let’s not disturb the ladies any longer. They’re waiting. Come along.”

  He left abruptly. Mr Halifax laughed at his back, and scooped up another cake into his hand before he followed his business partner out of the room.

  Edith and Adelia stared at one another and Edith started to laugh. Adelia turned her head to hide her face, as she thought showing amusement at a guest’s expense might be setting a bad example to her daughter and as she did so, her gaze alighted on a leather case that Mr Halifax had set down by his chair. She scooped it up and shot out after the two men to intercept them before they got away.

  They were up ahead of her, leaving by the main door. A footman opened it for them and they stepped through. She ran after them, falling back to a more sedate trot as she got to the door herself. The footman averted his gaze politely so she knew she was red in the face.

  They were just rounding the corner. As she got closer, she overheard Mr Halifax saying, “Now, Monty dear, don’t be like that. We work together, you and I. Haven’t we always?”

  “Not out of choice,” said the fossil expert snippily.

  “Sirs!”

  Both of them wheeled around. Mr Montgomery was looking angry and strained. Mr Halifax was openly smiling. He grinned more widely when he spotted what she was carrying. “Thank you, my dear Lady Calaway! You are too kind!”

  “Come on,” snapped Mr Montgomery, and he stalked off to the waiting carriage.

  Mr Halifax bowed low, and scampered off after Montgomery.

  Three

  Theodore had come into town with Alfred Pegsworth and found himself st
aying for a pint of ale in a small private room at the inn. Samuel Froude was also there. They were waiting for George Montgomery and Bablock Halifax to arrive. While Pegsworth sat by the fire, picking at his fingernails with a pocket-knife, Froude made himself comfortable at the table on the other side of the room, and began to talk with Theodore. Pegsworth was noticeably excluded from the conversation.

  Froude was a suave and urbane sort of chap, Theodore thought. He was in his mid-fifties and completely bald. His beard was neat and well-groomed and its grey tone matched his deep-set grey eyes. Theodore knew, from talking with Adelia who seemed to know everything about everyone, that he had been widowed twice and both marriages had been childless. Theodore was inclined to feel a little sorry for the fellow.

  But Froude’s manner did not invite pity. He was a forward-moving man, fixed on the future of his new business at a time in his life when other men would have been considering retiring. Theodore admired that energy, but wondered what drove him.

  “Might I ask,” Theodore said, “what has inspired you to start this particular venture? Are you an amateur palaeontologist yourself?”

  “No, not a bit of it,” Froude said, smiling slightly. “I am a businessman, through and through. Not trade – no, that’s not my background. Business,” he emphasised, as if it were something a little better than mere trade. “Has your dear wife not told you about me?” Then he shook his head as if that were a silly suggestion. “I actually worked with the old Thomas Cook, you know, Mr Cook senior, when he set up in Fleet Street and his business took off. But he can be a cantankerous man and we parted ways just before he retired. Not long after that, I met Montgomery at a club, and we got on rather well. He invited me on one of his fossil expeditions. Just as an amateur hobby, for me, at that stage. Other fellows take up fishing, I know.”

  Theodore nodded and sipped at his pint.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” Froude went on. “I have picked up a bit of this and that about fossils, over the years. But it’s not my passion.”

  “What is your passion?”

  “As I said – business.”

  “Money,” Theodore said with a grin.

  But Froude’s face darkened at that. “No,” he said rather severely. “That would be crass. Business, the control of a business, the success of a business ... to me, it’s almost a separate thing to the acquisition of money, you know.”

  “Bunkum,” crowed Pegsworth from his perch by the fire. “We all like a bit of money, don’t we? I know I do.”

  “That is not what I am talking about,” hissed Froude. “And what do you have to do with it? You are here under – sufferance.” He addressed Pegsworth as if he were a mere lackey. Then he turned back to Theodore and spoke more pleasantly. “I am sure you understand, as you are a man from a high family. Mere cash sullies the very purity of a business. It’s a rare thing, but it’s important to understand. Anyway, so after a few years of meeting up with Montgomery on an amateur basis, fossilling, I decided to start this business to take small and select groups out on educational excursions. Serious people, you know, not merely holidaymakers and pleasure-seekers.”

  “It sounds very interesting. Would it be open to couples, and perhaps single ladies?”

  “Provision would be made for suitably chaperoned young women of the right sort, of course, and I think that small groups of women would be allowed. I would hesitate to let it descend into some kind of dreadful courting opportunity, however. Married ladies would be welcome with their husbands or close confidantes, naturally. Would your good lady wife be interested? I should very much welcome her opinions on the matter. In fact, if she were to be so generous as to come on an early expedition and tell us what she thought, that would be immeasurably useful.”

  “I will certainly ask her. She is always willing to help people out,” Theodore said. “I say, you two know one another already, don’t you?” She had mentioned it briefly; that was no doubt why Froude wondered if Adelia had already spoken of him to Theodore.

  Froude licked his lips. “We did meet a few times, many decades ago, yes. I was not yet married at that time and nor was ... nor was Lady Calaway.” He said her title with a strange difficulty.

  “You should come to dinner. I am sure she would love to renew the acquaintance.”

  Froude coughed, and began to fiddle with the cuff of his sleeves, bending his head to hide his face. Theodore began to wonder if the man was ill in some way, and his suspicions were confirmed when Froude scratched at his wrist, making the exposed skin red. He suddenly stopped, and pulled his sleeve down in embarrassment. “I should love to come to dinner. But perhaps that would not be wise.” He waved his hands awkwardly. “This inn is a good one, I am sure, as far as food goes, but there seems to be a problem with fleas. I should hate to carry vermin into your home.”

  “Fleas? Here? I am shocked. The reputation of this inn is of the very highest.”

  “I confess it is a surprise to me. The others have not complained. I suspect I am one of those more sensitive and susceptible people – ah! Montgomery is here at last. And have you found Halifax?”

  The two men crowded into the room. Halifax sat down immediately alongside Froude, who twitched, and Montgomery waited until Theodore had got to his feet before taking his seat.

  Now that all the business partners were present for their meeting, there was no reason for Theodore to stay. He bid everyone farewell and headed for the door. As he turned to wave, he was sure that he saw Montgomery jerk his head at Pegsworth – while staring at Froude.

  Theodore wondered what it meant. Perhaps they had some task for Pegsworth. He could hardly be involved in the business meeting, after all. He thought he could wait for Pegsworth and accompany him back to Thringley House.

  But he didn’t. He hurried away.

  ADELIA WAS AS HORRIFIED as Theodore was to hear of the infestation that Samuel Froude was suffering from. She put their shared history – and its unpleasant ending – out of her mind. With her husband’s blessing, she dashed off a quick impersonal note to the inn and by the mid-afternoon, Froude had rolled into Thringley House, carrying a carpet bag, while a servant from the inn dragged his travelling trunk along behind him.

  She told herself that no matter what had occurred between them in the past, it could not affect the present. Yet she still felt a strange jumping sensation in her belly as she stood on an upper landing looking down into the entrance hall. He hadn’t looked up and spotted her yet. She’d spoken briefly to him at Edith’s birthday party. The conversation had been both public and light yet it had raised so many memories of her youth that she had almost felt dizzy with nostalgia. There was pain but there had been laughter too. But she knew that it was silly, pointless nostalgia; she was perfectly content with the way her life had turned out. No, not merely content. She was actually happier.

  It was only natural to wonder how things might have been if she’d accepted his proposal of marriage, thirty years ago. But she’d never felt that she had ever known the real Samuel Froude. He had been a smooth sort of man, intelligent and sociable it was true, but she had watched him in many situations and seen how he had worn personalities like cloaks, changing with the fashions.

  She had told Theodore that they knew one another, in a vague way. She had never mentioned the proposal nor Froude’s courting of her, his insistent pursuit that had almost arrogantly assumed a future for them without even consulting her. That past hardly seemed relevant and anyway, it was one of a handful of proposals she’d received and rejected before agreeing to marry Theodore – on his second time of asking.

  Froude had not spoken to her since her rejection until they had met again at the party two days previously. She knew she had devastated him but she often thought it was his ego that had been damaged more deeply than his heart. She knew, through various gossips, about his two marriages and his lack of an heir. She hadn’t known, until she’d seen him at the party, that he’d also lost all of his hair. She smiled to herself, resisting t
he temptation to drop something on his bald head as he passed below her.

  It was time for her to be a welcoming hostess. She descended to the ground floor and caught him as he was being led to a parlour to wait. Various servants came forward to take his bag and trunk, and the boy from the inn was paid and allowed to leave. She decided to treat him with the warmth that she would bestow on any guest, and put their past far behind them both. She approached with her hands outstretched, smiling.

  He responded marvellously and with great grace, as if they had not once almost been lovers until she had thrown his offer back into his face. He took her hands and pressed them gently, smiling back at her, his eyes not leaving her face. “Dear Lady Calaway,” he said, and came to an awkward halt. He laughed. “Lady Calaway, indeed! The words feel strange in my mouth.”

  “It is strange to hear you say them, Mr Froude.” She was grateful that he was being calm. She had been worried his anger could have sustained him over the past three decades.

  “I wish that you might call me Samuel, as you once did.”

  She tried not to wince but he caught it. He said, hastily, before she could respond, “I know; it would be highly inappropriate. Mr Froude it shall be, then. Thank you so very much for your invitation here.”

  “Oh, it was not my idea,” she said. “Here he is! Theodore, darling.” She spoke with relief when Theodore came into the room and approached them with a broad grin. Adelia said, “He came straight back from the inn, furious about the fleas, and insisted that we do something to help.”

  Mr Froude shook Theodore’s hand briefly but he continued to talk to Adelia as if her husband was not there. “Do you visit London much these days?”

  “I have not been back for nearly a year,” she said. “I enjoy it but find it tiring so very quickly now. It is a place for the young. And I am so very busy with all my daughters; I could spent a year simply travelling from one household to the next. Do you still live in London?”