The House at Riverton aka The Shifting Fog

by Kate Morton

  Emmeline raised her eyebrows but Fanny did not see. She was watching Hannah, whose pen now lay by her book.

  Fanny’s eyes flickered with self-satisfaction. ‘Well,’ she said, easing her shoe over her injured toe, ‘much as I’ve enjoyed your spirited company, I’ll take my leave. My husband will be back from his walk by now and I find myself thirsting for some… adult conversation.’

  She smiled sweetly and left the room, head high. The posture was undermined somewhat by a slight limp.

  While Emmeline started another record and triple-stepped herself around the room, Hannah remained at the desk, back still turned. Her hands were clasped, forming a bridge on which her chin rested, and she was staring out the windows across the never-ending fields. As I dusted the cornice behind her, I could see by the glass’s faint reflection that she was in deep thought.

  The following week the house party arrived. As was custom, its members set about immediately enjoying the activities their hosts had undertaken to provide. Some rambled across the estate, others played bridge in the library, and the more energetic took to fencing in the gymnasium.

  After her herculean effort of organisation, Lady Violet’s health took a sudden turn for the worse and she was confined to bed. Lady Clementine sought company elsewhere. Lured by the glinting and grating blades, she took up bulky occupation in a leather armchair in view of the fencing. When I served afternoon tea she was engaged in a cosy tête-à-tête with Simion Luxton.

  ‘Your son fences well,’ Lady Clementine said, indicating one of the masked swordsmen. ‘For an American.’

  ‘He may talk like an American, Lady Clementine, but I assure you, he’s an Englishman through and through.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Lady Clementine said.

  ‘He fences like an Englishman,’ Simion said vociferously. ‘Deceptively simple. Same style that’ll see him into Parliament in the coming elections.’

  ‘I did hear of his nomination,’ Lady Clementine said. ‘You must be very pleased.’

  Simion was even more puffed up than usual. ‘My son has an excellent future.’

  ‘Certainly he represents almost everything we conservatives look for in a parliamentarian. At my most recent Conservative Women’s tea, we were discussing the lack of good, solid men to manage the likes of Lloyd George.’ Her gaze of appraisal returned to Teddy. ‘Your son may be just the thing, and I’ll be more than happy to endorse him if I find him so.’ She took a sip of tea. ‘Of course, there is the small matter of his wife.’

  ‘No matter there,’ Simion said dismissively. ‘Teddy doesn’t have a wife.’

  ‘Precisely my point, Mr Luxton.’

  Simion frowned.

  ‘Some of the other ladies are not so liberal as I,’ Lady Clementine said. ‘They see it as a mark of weak character. Family values are so important to us. A man of certain years without a wife… people start to wonder.’

  ‘He just hasn’t met the right girl.’

  ‘Of course, Mr Luxton. You and I both know that. But the other ladies… They look at your son and see a fine good-looking fellow with so much to offer, yet left wanting a wife. You can’t blame them that they start to wonder why. Start to wonder whether perhaps he hasn’t an eye for the ladies?’ She raised her eyebrows pointedly.

  Simion’s cheeks turned red. ‘My son is not… No Luxton man has ever been accused of…’

  ‘Of course not, Mr Luxton,’ Lady Clementine said smoothly, ‘and these are not my opinions, you understand. I’m just passing on the thoughts of some of our ladies. They like to know a man is a man. Not an aesthete.’ She smiled thinly and repositioned her spectacles. ‘Whatever the case, it’s a small matter and there’s plenty of time. He’s still young. Twenty-five, is he?’

  ‘Thirty-one,’ Simion said.

  ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Not so young then. Never matter.’ Lady Clementine knew when to let silence speak for her. She returned her attention to the jousting.

  ‘You may rest assured, Lady Clementine. There’s nothing wrong with Teddy,’ said Simion. ‘He’s very popular with the ladies. He’ll have his pick of brides when he’s ready.’

  ‘Glad to hear it, Mr Luxton.’ Lady Clementine continued to watch the fencing. She took a sip of tea. ‘I just hope for his sake that time comes soon. And that he chooses the right sort of girl.’

  Simion raised a querying brow.

  ‘We English are a nationalistic lot. Your son has much to recommend him, but some people, particularly in the Conservative Party, may think him a little new. I do hope when he takes a wife she brings more to the marriage than her honourable self.’

  ‘What could be more important than a bride’s honour, Lady Clementine?’

  ‘Her name, her family, her breeding.’ Lady Clementine looked on as Teddy’s opponent landed a strike and won the match. ‘Overlooked as they may be in the new world, here in England these things are very important.’

  ‘Alongside the girl’s purity, of course,’ said Simion.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘And deference.’

  ‘Certainly,’ said Lady Clementine with less conviction.

  ‘None of these modern women for my son, Lady Clementine,’ said Simion, licking his lips. ‘We Luxton men like our ladies to know who’s boss.’

  ‘I understand, Mr Luxton,’ said Lady Clementine.

  Simion applauded the close of game. ‘If only one knew where to find such a suitable young lady.’

  Lady Clementine kept her eyes on the court. ‘Don’t you find, Mr Luxton, that often the very things one seeks can be found right under one’s own nose?’

  ‘I do, Lady Clementine,’ said Simion with a close-lipped smile. ‘I most certainly do.’

  I wasn’t required at dinner and saw neither Teddy nor his father for the rest of Friday. Myra reported that the two were engaged in heated discussion in the upstairs corridor late Friday night; however, if indeed they argued, by Saturday morning Teddy was his usual cheery self.

  When I came to check the drawing-room fire, he sat in the armchair reading the morning newspaper, concealing his amusement as Lady Clementine bemoaned the floral arrangements. They had just arrived from Braintree, resplendent with roses where Lady Clementine had been promised dahlias. She was not happy.

  ‘You,’ she said to me, flicking a rose stem, ‘find Miss Hartford. She’ll need to see them for herself.’

  ‘I believe Miss Hartford is preparing to take her horse out this morning, Lady Clementine,’ I said.

  ‘I don’t care if she’s planning on riding in the Grand National. The arrangements need her attention.’

  Thus, while the other young ladies ate breakfast in bed, pondering the night ahead, Hannah was summoned to the drawing room. I had helped her into her riding costume half an hour earlier, and she had the look of a cornered fox, anxious to escape. While Lady Clementine raged, Hannah, with little opinion as to whether dahlias were preferable to roses, could only nod in bemusement and sneak occasional, longing glances at the ship’s clock.

  ‘But whatever will we do?’ Lady Clementine reached her argument’s end. ‘It’s too late to order more.’

  Hannah rubbed her lips together, blinked herself back into the moment. ‘I suppose we shall have to make do with what we have,’ she said with mock fortitude.

  ‘But can you bear it?’

  Hannah feigned resignation. ‘If I must, I shall.’ She waited a requisite few seconds and said, brightly, ‘Now, if that’s all-’

  ‘Come on upstairs,’ Lady Clementine interrupted. ‘I’ll show you how dreadful they look in the ballroom. You won’t believe…’

  As Lady Clementine continued to deride the rose arrangements, Hannah withered on the spot. The mere suggestion of further floral debate brought a glaze to her eyes.

  In the armchair, Teddy cleared his throat, folded the paper and placed it on the table beside him. ‘It’s such a lovely winter’s day,’ he said to nobody in particular. ‘I’ve a good mind to take a ride. See more of the estate.’r />
  Lady Clementine drew breath mid-sentence and the light of higher purpose seemed to flicker in her eyes. ‘A ride,’ she said without missing a beat. ‘What a lovely idea, Mr Luxton. Hannah, isn’t that a lovely idea?’

  Hannah looked up with surprise as Teddy smiled conspiratorially at her. ‘You’re welcome to join me.’

  Before she could answer, Lady Clementine said, ‘Yes… splendid. We’d be happy to join you, Mr Luxton. If you don’t mind of course?’

  Teddy didn’t miss a beat. ‘I’d count myself lucky to have two such lovely tour guides.’

  Lady Clementine turned to me, her expression one of trepidation. ‘You, girl, have Mrs Townsend send up a packed tea.’ She turned back to Teddy and said, through a thin-lipped smile, ‘I do so love to ride.’

  They made an odd procession as they set off for the stables, even odder, Dudley said, once all were on horseback. He had fallen about laughing, he said, watching as they disappeared across the west glade, Lady Clementine paired with Mr Frederick’s ancient mare whose girth exceeded even her rider’s.

  They were gone two hours, and when they returned for lunch Teddy was soaking wet, Hannah was awfully quiet and Lady Clementine as smug as a cat with a bowl of cream. What happened on their ride, Hannah told me herself, though not for many months.

  From the stable they crossed the west glade then followed the river, walking the horses beneath the row of mighty beeches that lined the reedy bank. The meadows either side of the river wore stark winter coats and there was no sign of the deer that spent the summer grazing on them.

  They rode for some way in silence: Hannah up front, Teddy close behind and Lady Clementine bringing up the rear. Wintry twigs snapped under the horses’ feet, the river tripped and burbled on its way to join the Thames, and a distant cyclist pedalled toward the village, spokes whizzing.

  Finally, Teddy brought his horse up beside Hannah and said, in a jolly voice, ‘It’s certainly a pleasure to be here, Miss Hartford. I must thank you for your kind invitation.’

  Hannah, who had been enjoying the silence, said, ‘It’s my grandmother you’ll have to thank, Mr Luxton. For I had little to do with the whole affair.’

  ‘Ah…’ Teddy said. ‘I see. I shall have to remember to thank her.’

  Pitying Teddy, who, after all, had just been making conversation, Hannah said, ‘What is it you do for a living, Mr Luxton?’

  He was quick to answer, relieved perhaps. ‘I’m a collector.’

  ‘What do you collect?’

  ‘Objects of beauty.’

  ‘I thought perhaps you worked with your father.’

  Teddy shrugged away a birch leaf that had fallen onto his shoulder. ‘My father and I do not see eye to eye on matters of business, Miss Hartford,’ he said. ‘He sees little of worth in anything not directly related to the gathering of wealth.’

  ‘And you, Mr Luxton?’

  ‘I seek wealth of a different sort. A wealth of new experiences. The century is young and so am I. There are too many things to see and do to become bogged down in business.’

  Hannah looked at him. ‘Pa said that you were entering politics. Surely that will curtail your plans?’

  He shook his head. ‘Politics gives me more reason to broaden my horizons. The best leaders are those who bring perspective to their position, wouldn’t you say?’

  They rode on for some time, all the way to the back meadows, stopping every so often that the stragglers might catch up. When finally they reached a clearing, Lady Clementine and her mare were equally relieved to rest their beaten flanks. Teddy helped her to the ground and set out the picnic blanket and travel seats while Hannah arranged the tea.

  When they had finished the cucumber sandwiches and sponge fingers, Hannah said, ‘I think I shall take a walk to the bridge.’

  ‘Bridge?’ Teddy said.

  ‘Over there beyond the trees,’ Hannah said, standing, ‘where the lake thins and joins the stream.’

  ‘Would you mind company?’ Teddy said.

  ‘Not at all,’ Hannah said, but she did.

  Lady Clementine, torn between her duty as chaperone and her duty to her aching buttocks, said finally, ‘I’ll stay here and mind the horses. Don’t be too long, now. I shall start to worry. There are many dangers in the woods, you know.’

  Hannah smiled slightly at Teddy and headed off in the direction of the bridge. Teddy followed, caught her up and walked beside at a polite distance.

  ‘I am sorry, Mr Luxton, that Lady Clementine has forced our company on you this morning.’

  ‘Not at all,’ Teddy said. ‘I’ve enjoyed the company.’ He glanced at her. ‘Some more than others.’

  Hannah continued to look directly ahead. ‘When I was younger,’ she said quickly, ‘my brother and sister and I would come down to the lake to play. In the boathouse and on the bridge.’ She sneaked a sidelong glance at him. ‘It’s a magical bridge, you know.’

  ‘A magical bridge?’ Teddy raised an eyebrow.

  ‘You’ll understand when you see it,’ Hannah said.

  ‘And what did you used to play on this magical bridge of yours?’

  ‘We used to take turns running across.’ She looked at him. ‘Sounds simple enough, I know. But this isn’t any ordinary magical bridge. This one’s governed by a particularly nasty and vengeful lake-demon.’

  ‘Indeed,’ said Teddy, smiling.

  ‘Most times we would make it across all right, but every so often one of us would wake him.’

  ‘What would happen then?’

  ‘Why then there’d be a duel to the death.’ She smiled at him. ‘His death, of course. We were all excellent swordsmen. Luckily he was immortal or there wouldn’t have been much of a game in it.’

  They turned the corner and the rickety bridge was before them, perched astride a narrow reach of the stream.

  ‘There,’ said Hannah breathlessly.

  The bridge, which had long ago fallen into disuse, usurped by a larger one closer to town that motor cars could cross, had lost all but a few flakes of paint and was grown over with moss. The reedy river banks sloped gently toward the water’s edge where wild flowers bloomed in summer.

  ‘I wonder if the lake-demon’s in today,’ said Teddy.

  Hannah smiled. ‘Don’t worry. If he shows up, I have his measure.’

  ‘You’ve waged your share of battles.’

  ‘Waged and won,’ said Hannah. ‘We used to play down here whenever we could. We didn’t always fight the lake-demon, though. Sometimes we used to write letters. Make them into boats and throw them over,’ Hannah said.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘So they would take our wishes to London.’

  ‘Of course.’ Teddy smiled. ‘To whom did you write?’

  Hannah smoothed the grass with her foot. ‘You’ll think it silly.’

  ‘Try me.’

  She looked up at him, bit back a smile. ‘I wrote to Jane Digby. Every time.’

  Teddy frowned.

  ‘You know,’ Hannah said. ‘Lady Jane, who ran away to Arabia, lived a life of exploration and conquest.’

  ‘Ah,’ Teddy said, memory dawning. ‘The infamous absconder. Whatever did you have to say to her?’

  ‘I used to ask her to come and rescue me. I offered her my services as a devoted slave on condition that she took me on her next adventure.’

  ‘But surely, when you were young, she was already-’

  ‘Dead? Yes. Of course, she was. Long dead. I didn’t know that then.’ Hannah looked sideways at him. ‘Of course, if she’d been alive, the plan would have been foolproof.’

  ‘Undoubtedly,’ he said with arch seriousness. ‘She’d have come right down and taken you with her to Arabia.’

  ‘Disguised as a Bedouin sheikh, I always thought.’

  ‘Your father wouldn’t have minded a bit.’

  Hannah laughed. ‘I’m afraid he would. And did.’

  Teddy raised an eyebrow. ‘Did?’

  ‘One of the tenant farm
ers found a letter once and returned it to Pa. The farmer couldn’t read it himself, but I’d drawn the family crest and he thought it must have been important. I dare say he expected a reward for his efforts.’

  ‘I’m guessing he didn’t get one.’

  ‘He certainly did not. Pa was livid. I was never sure whether it was my desire to join such scandalous company or the impertinence of my letter that he objected to more. I suspect his main concern was that Grandmamma might find out. She always thought me an imprudent child.’

  ‘What some would call imprudent,’ Teddy said, ‘others might call spirited.’ He looked at her seriously. With intent, Hannah thought, though of what kind she wasn’t sure. She felt herself blush and turned away. Her fingers sought animation in the clump of long, thin reeds that grew about the river bank. She pulled one from its shaft and, seized suddenly by a strange energy, ran onto the bridge. She tossed the reed over one side, into the rushing river below, then hurried to the other side to witness its re-emergence.

  ‘Take my wishes to London,’ she called after it as it disappeared around the bend.

  ‘What did you wish for?’ Teddy asked.

  She smiled at him and leaned forward, and in that moment fate intervened. The clasp of her locket, weak with wear, relinquished its hold on her chain, slipped around her pale neck and dropped below. Hannah felt the loss of weight but realised its cause too late. The next she saw it, the locket was little more than a glimmer disappearing beneath the water’s surface.

  She gasped, ran back across the bridge and clambered through the reeds to the river’s edge.

  ‘What is it?’ Teddy said, bewildered.

  ‘My locket,’ Hannah said. ‘It slipped…’ She began to unlace her shoes. ‘My brother…’

  ‘Did you see where it went?’