‘It’s just as well the rest of the country feels nothing but gratitude for those brave men who have made such sacrifices for us,’ I said, with some feeling.
She rose at once, quite deliberately without a word, and took herself off to the other side of the room where George and Frank were deep in conversation. Even if I had not disliked her before, this small incident would have turned me against her. As it was, it served to increase my animosity.
‘Well spoken, my dear,’ said a deep voice close to my ear. ‘I’m glad my son has such a spirited defender. Do you mind if I sit beside you?’ It was the tall, cadaverous old gentleman whom I understood to be Colonel Hartley’s father. He leaned heavily on his stick and sank slowly onto the sofa as I hastily moved a cushion out of the way.
‘Are you quite comfortable, sir?’ I asked.
‘As comfortable as I’m ever likely to be. I rarely venture out for dinner these days. But this hot weather seems to suit me. The cold eats into my bones and makes my old wounds ache. It’s pleasant to experience a change of scene and meet new people. I take it you are here with your brother, Mr Tyler?’
‘Yes, and with my niece Sophie. Lady Denby is a cousin and she invited us.’
He nodded. ‘I’m glad to see Lovegrove inhabited again. I knew Miss Wilton, the last of her family. She lived on here until she was over ninety with most of the house closed down and going to rack and ruin. The Denbys have brought it back to life.’
I reflected that he probably had very little in common with Sir Ralph and his wife but he seemed to appreciate their efforts to restore the priory. ‘You must be glad to have your son at home again after all his adventures,’ I said.
‘Oh, yes. We’re a military family of course and used to long separations but I am relieved John didn’t go to India with his regiment. I’m sure I would never have seen him again. Besides, he was needed here on the estate. There’s no one else. I lost my other son in Spain.’
‘Where?’ I enquired.
‘Ciudad Rodrigo.’
‘I was engaged to an officer who was killed in the assault on Badajos.’
‘Ah, sieges are the very devil. What regiment?’
‘The Rifles.’
‘The first in the field and the last out of it. The bloody, fighting ninety-fifth!’
‘Harry was in one of the storming parties so he would certainly have been among the first in, but he never came out of it.’
He regarded me for a moment with a searching look and then his bony hand closed over mine. ‘We have both suffered great losses which no one else in this room could possibly understand.’
I felt tears in my eyes.
‘Particularly not,’ he added, ‘that very silly woman you put down so successfully. And now, my dear, I see that handsome young man is hovering in the hope of taking my place. I will go and talk to Sir Ralph about the hay harvest. I’m sure you have had enough of an old man’s conversation.’
‘Oh, no!’ I assured him, ‘I do hope we can talk again.’
He smiled, patted my hand and heaved himself to his feet assisted by Frank Lawrence who, as he had observed, was waiting to sit beside me.
‘I am afraid I find my aunt a little tiresome occasionally,’ he said. ‘I enjoyed talking to your brother. She seems to have taken a fancy to him.’
‘I’m afraid so.’
We turned and saw the happy couple; Louisa Thorpe clinging to George’s arm as though glued there, his head bent to hear the words she was murmuring in his ear.
Sophie was playing the piano with Rowland beside her. When she had finished we all applauded politely. It was competent at least. Then she was prevailed upon to accompany Rowland who, his mother informed us, had a magnificent voice and in humbler circumstances could have been an opera singer. It was a decent enough baritone – better than I anticipated if truth be told. Lady Denby’s praises always made me expect the worst.
Then Elinor was coerced into accompanying Sophie and Rowland in a duet. My niece had a sweet, rather tremulous voice but sounded well enough with male support.
‘As we are enjoying singing this evening,’ Lady Denby informed us, ‘we have saved the best until last. Louisa dear, can I persuade you to entertain us?’
I caught a glimpse of Elinor, still at the piano, looking vindictive but she rapidly brought her countenance under control.
Louisa’s voice really was very good indeed: rich, warm and expressive. She first gave us a plaintive Italian song, then a Scottish ballad and ended with a sprightly French ditty. George applauded enthusiastically when she had finished. I noticed Colonel Hartley slapping the arm of his chair.
‘She is good, isn’t she?’ said Frank.
‘Remarkably so. She is very talented.’
‘In more ways than one. Oh, I know – she’s a tremendous flirt.’
‘If it were only flirtation it wouldn’t matter but I’m afraid she’s set her cap at my brother. He’s somewhat susceptible to attractive brunettes with dimples.’
‘Yes, she’s a pretty woman for her age but she’s my aunt. I prefer looks of a different sort.’ He gazed at me with undisguised admiration.
‘Really?’ I said, as evenly as possible. ‘It’s rather odd in George’s case because his wife was blonde like Sophie and he was utterly devoted to her. Of course, they weren’t married very long and he’s never shown any inclination to find anyone else.’
‘Frank, do come over and sing for us!’ cried Mrs Thorpe. ‘Here’s a surprise for you all! You’ve never heard my nephew and he has the most charming voice.’
I wondered if this was a ploy to get him away from me, but after an initial display of reluctance, he went over to the piano and sang one of Thomas Moore’s Irish melodies. It was Harry’s favourite.
‘The Minstrel Boy to the war is gone.
In the ranks of death you will find him….’
It was a light tenor voice and very expressive. I had some difficulty controlling my feelings.
When he had finished and declined to sing an encore Colonel Hartley came over to me. I thought that Frank looked momentarily annoyed to see his place taken but my attention was immediately seized by the Colonel’s first remark: ‘My father tells me you were engaged to an officer of the 95th who was killed at Badajos. It wasn’t Harry O’Neill by any chance?’
I was already unnerved by the song. Now I must have changed countenance for he caught my hand in his.
‘I’m sorry if I startled you but—’
‘No, it was the shock of hearing his name so suddenly and unexpectedly. I didn’t think you’d have heard of him.’
‘The whole army heard of Harry O’Neill. You see, we were like a great big family – everyone knew everybody else, more or less. And Lord Wellington was like a stern parent directing us all. Any particularly colourful personalities became widely known. Harry was incredibly brave and daring – adored by his men – always in the forefront. I knew he’d got engaged to a girl back in England during his sick leave and was desperate for promotion.’
‘I feel guilty sometimes. He wanted so much to get his majority so that we could afford to marry at the end of the war. Perhaps he wouldn’t have been so reckless if—’
‘No, set your mind at rest. Harry O’Neill would have done what he did in any circumstances. That is how he was. He was a great loss to his regiment.’
‘Thank you so much for telling me this. I’m so glad he’s remembered by others.’
‘He’s remembered by everyone who fought with him and I’m sure Wellington himself has not forgotten him.’
‘That is a great comfort. But you had your own sorrow – you lost your brother.’
‘Yes, I don’t think my poor father has ever got over it. It was worse for him and I don’t just mean that losing a son is worse than losing a brother however strong the affection might be. I was so occupied that I had little time for grief. I found Tom’s body and saw he had a decent burial. Then we moved on – and my father was at home alone, in declining he
alth and wondering if I would survive the war.’
‘You must miss the army,’ I said.
‘Well, times like those won’t ever come again. There won’t ever be another army under another commander like that. I’ve become a country squire and it’s nice to know I’m not likely to be killed tomorrow. I haven’t got to march at dawn or sleep in a damp bivouac. One gets used to comfort in time as one got used to hardship.’
‘Elinor is about to play,’ I said. ‘We must listen – she has a great gift far beyond the amateur efforts of the others.’
‘I agree. Not that I know a great deal about music – but she deserves our attention.’
We continued to sit side by side on the sofa and I felt a comfortable closeness to Colonel Hartley. He had known Harry and led the life that he had led.
When Elinor had finished and been applauded, I remarked to my companion that the room had become stiflingly hot. It was a very warm night and the heat of the many candles made it worse.
‘You are right,’ he said, ‘the windows aren’t open far enough.’ He rose and I followed him as it occurred to me that a one-armed man might find it difficult to raise a sash.
‘Perhaps we can manage it between us,’ I suggested.
‘What a helpful young lady you are,’ he smiled.
When we had accomplished our task we stood for a while enjoying the cool air and the view of the park bathed in moonlight. I suddenly realized that a figure was sitting on the stone bench against the wall below – a hooded figure which rose and glided away even as we watched.
‘It’s the hermit!’ I exclaimed. ‘He must have been sitting there listening to the music.’
‘Well, he loves music and this is the only chance he has to hear anything.’
‘You know him?’
‘Oh yes, it was through me he obtained the post of hermit. A ridiculous occupation but it suits him very well.’
‘But you know who he is?’
‘Yes, I know who he is. Even Sir Ralph doesn’t know that – but I can’t tell anyone. I gave my word.’
I thought of Rowland Webb’s idea that the hermit might be a barrister who had shot his wife. Somehow it now seemed even more unlikely.
CHAPTER SIX
‘Today,’ announced Lady Denby next morning, ‘as the gentlemen are all riding over to a cricket match at Somerwick I thought we ladies would take a little outing to Ashdale. It’s market day and there are some tolerable shops and a fine old church that’s worth inspecting. I’ve arranged for us to have a cold collation in a private room at the Unicorn and in the afternoon we can drive to Hollingstone to admire the view. Then we can return home at our leisure.’
‘But your novel, dear Amelia!’ exclaimed Louisa Thorpe. ‘I thought you could not leave it.’
‘Some sacrifices have to be made when one has guests,’ observed Lady Denby. ‘Besides, I’ve reached an impasse. I must rest from my labours for a day or two to refresh my imagination.’
This arrangement met with everyone’s approval. The gentlemen rode off after breakfast and a little later the barouche was brought round for the females of the party. When we reached the small market town of Ashdale we divided. Lady Denby and Mrs Thorpe went off together and Sophie and I found ourselves joined by Elinor.
‘Do you mind if I come with you?’ she asked. ‘I feel like an intruder with those two and they treat me with such condescension I could scream.’
‘Not at all,’ I said. ‘I’m sure you belong with the younger half of the party.’
We strolled round the shops and through the busy market where I bought a small basket and filled it with oranges, strawberries and cherries.
‘We have plenty of fruit at home,’ said Elinor, rather mystified.
‘It’s by way of an apology to Brother Caspar,’ I explained. ‘We intruded on his privacy the other day and I thought I’d leave a small offering outside his cave. What do you make of him?’
‘I don’t know.’ Elinor seemed unwilling to say more.
‘Something very sad – perhaps even tragic – has happened to him, I’m sure,’ I said.
‘Rowland thinks he’s a London barrister who murdered his wife,’ said Sophie.
‘That is exactly the sort of thing Rowland would say!’ Elinor sounded positively vicious. ‘He has no understanding of other people – particularly those more intelligent than himself – and that means at least half the population.’
‘Well, I’m sure your hermit is no criminal,’ I said. ‘I suspect he is an army acquaintance of Colonel Hartley. Apparently he found him the post but he is unwilling to say more. Perhaps he suffered greatly in the war and sought refuge in peaceful surroundings.’
‘He can’t have suffered more than Colonel Hartley,’ said Sophie.
‘There is more than one kind of suffering,’ observed Elinor.
‘True,’ I agreed, thinking of General Hartley and his grief for his dead son.
The rest of the morning passed pleasantly. We dutifully visited the church, which was very fine and contained some interesting monuments. At half past twelve we repaired to the Unicorn Inn for our cold collation. It was a fine, large hostelry situated in the market square and we were conducted to a comfortable room on the first floor with windows looking out on the bustling market below.
The meal was simple but excellent and we lingered, chatting in a desultory fashion.
‘I can hear a baby crying!’ said Elinor suddenly.
‘Oh, there’s always a hullaballoo in an inn like this,’ declared Lady Denby, ‘so many people are coming and going all the time.’
Eventually we took ourselves downstairs to the inn yard where our carriage was waiting. Elinor abruptly announced that she had left her reticule in the dining room so she excused herself and ran upstairs to fetch it. She was gone such a long time that Lady Denby asked me to go after her.
‘What can the girl be doing?’ she complained. ‘This is a rambling sort of building but I hardly think she could have got lost.’
I was halfway up the stairs when I encountered Elinor coming down. It seemed obvious at once that something had upset her. I had never seen her so flushed and agitated.
‘Are you all right?’ I asked.
‘Yes of course. I – I couldn’t find my reticule. It wasn’t where I thought I’d left it. I have it now. That’s all!’ I didn’t believe her.
We enjoyed an uneventful drive to Hollingstone where I made a few sketches and dutifully admired the view over five counties and then we headed home. Throughout the excursion Elinor scarcely spoke and seemed preoccupied. I was sure she had seen something or met somebody on her return indoors at the inn, but she was obviously not going to confide in anyone.
On our return to Lovegrove I decided to take my basket of fruit to the hermitage before going up to my room. I had written a brief note of apology which I tucked in among the fruit. I intended to leave it at the entrance to the cave but just as I put it in place, the door to the cell opened and Brother Caspar emerged.
I was somewhat disconcerted but could not walk away without some explanation.
‘A small gift …’ I indicated the basket. ‘I much regretted our intrusion yesterday. It was my fault. The others are young and heedless. I should have prevented them entering.’
‘Think no more of it – I doubt if you could have done anything. The young are wilful and opposition makes them worse.’
‘I wasn’t sure if you were committed to an austere monkish diet but I thought fruit would be acceptable.’
‘Anything is acceptable. Thank you! I am sure Lady Denby would like me to subsist on spring water and herbs,’ (I caught a direct reference to Goldsmith’s poem) ‘but I don’t think I’d survive long on that. I get two meals a day from the house and Colonel Hartley brings me an occasional treat – a bottle of wine or the like. I do very well. He also keeps me supplied with books so I am never bored.’
‘Did you enjoy the music last night?’
He started a little. ‘Yo
u saw me?’
‘Colonel Hartley and I were at the window and saw you leave. He said you loved music and this was the only chance you had to hear it.’
‘True.’
‘And Miss Denby plays very well.’
‘Remarkably so.’
‘Colonel Hartley said he had found you this post but he wouldn’t tell me anything about you. This is a very lonely life you have chosen.’
‘Solitary rather than lonely. It suits my disposition. John Hartley is the best of friends and the best of men.’
He picked up the basket and gave a small bow which looked odd coming from a man in a monkish robe but I realized he must once have dressed normally and mixed in society.
‘I mustn’t keep you here,’ he said ‘they’ll be having dinner up at the house and one of the servants will be bringing me my tray. Good evening and thank you for the gift.’
The door closed behind him and I went back to the house. The hermit was certainly a gentleman. Surely he had a family and friends who must wonder what had become of him. It was difficult to judge his age, especially with all that greying hair and beard, but I fancied he was younger than he looked.
At dinner, less than an hour later, there was some talk of the cricket match.
‘Where did you get to, Rowland?’ enquired Sir Ralph. ‘You disappeared for a couple of hours.’
‘I got bored and rode over to Creswood. I wanted to see a horse Tom Radley has for sale.’
‘Are you going to buy it?’
‘No, it’s sway-backed.’
As usual Frank Lawrence paid a great deal of attention to me but I could not take him seriously. He had no prospects and I knew only too well what could result from that. I wished with all my heart I had married Harry. He would still have died; we would have had only a few weeks together but I felt I could have lived off that for the rest of my life. At least Harry had a purpose to his life; he was passionately devoted to the army and his regiment. Frank seemed rootless and restless, lacking in ambition. He was certainly pleasant company, witty and entertaining with a fund of stories about his life in the militia and a brief career on a merchant ship, a spell with a wine merchant and journeys abroad as a courier.
The Lovegrove Hermit Page 4
