by Rosie Harris
The thought of having hordes of gawping strangers invading her privacy appalled her.
‘Lord Bath does it down at Longleat and makes a killing from it, and so do most other titled landowners,’ Robert had argued.
‘Walford Grange hasn’t that kind of appeal,’ she protested.
‘Not quite the same historic interest, I grant you,’ Robert agreed, ‘but we could make our model farm the attraction. Lord Montagu shows off his collection of vintage cars when people visit Beaulieu, but here they would view our dairy herd and farming methods. Where else could the public see stabling and byres as clean and methodically run, such streamlined sheep-shearing facilities or such perfect piggeries?’
‘Show them those by all means,’ she told him, ‘but I don’t want the public anywhere near the house. Now that you’ve turned Greg Paxton and his family out of Home Farm you can organise everything from there … just leave our home out of your plans.’
Robert had been both surprised and offended by her outburst. She wondered afterwards if she had been too forthright but stubbornly refused to amend her statement.
Robert, she decided, had got away with running things his way for far too long. It was time she took a stand. After all, she was the one who was custodian of Walford Grange, not Robert. And she didn’t intend that Russell’s heritage should be ruined before he took it over.
Chapter 19
Colonel Robert Campbell strode out from Walford Grange, and across the Home Paddock heading in the direction of the small wood on the far side. He was dressed as though for a day’s shooting in moleskin breeches, a thorn-proof tweed jacket, matching deer-stalker hat and high-legged brown leather boots. He carried a double-barrelled shotgun, the barrel resting along his forearm at just the same angle as General Sir Henry Russell had always carried his gun when he strode the same paths.
Like his late father-in-law, Robert used the excuse of a day’s shooting in Badger’s Wood as a means to soothe his nerves and to escape from other company. It was just another of the countless ways in which he aped Sir Henry.
His mind was churning with anger, hate and frustration as he stalked across the meadow. When Sir Henry’s Will had been read out after the funeral it had taken every ounce of Robert’s highly-trained self-control not to cause a scene and denounce him as a two-timing bastard to anyone who cared to listen.
He had heard the expression ‘revenge beyond the grave’ but never before attributed to it any particular circumstance. Now he knew precisely what it meant. He felt cheated, robbed of his rightful place and, not for the first time since Sir Henry had out-manoeuvred him, needed to be alone in order to work out his future moves with military precision.
Reaching Badger Wood he made for a small clearing and raising his gun to his shoulder, fired a volley at random. As the blast shattered the sweet stillness, sending birds squawking into the air from the surrounding trees, he expelled a deep breath, giving relief to his pent-up feelings.
He sat down on a fallen tree, propped his gun against it and took a little-used briar pipe from his pocket and lit it. As he contemplated the blue smoke that rose in a spiral, he began thinking about the events in his life and to wonder if he could have changed them in any way.
He had known right from the moment he had asked for permission to marry Kate that General Sir Henry Russell didn’t approve of him. The obstacles he had placed in their way had been positive proof of that, Robert thought grimly.
He had worked hard to surmount them all. He had made a career in the army, and when he had finally achieved the rank of Colonel, Robert assumed that he had managed, at last, to find complete favour in the General’s eyes. Certainly in the last years of his life, Sir Henry had been affable enough towards him, he reflected.
‘And so he bloody well should have been,’ Robert muttered aloud as he knocked the ash from his half-smoked pipe and stood up. He had modelled himself on Sir Henry, and done everything in his power to prove that he was the right person to be in charge at Walford Grange when the time came.
Yet, if Sir Henry’s Will was anything to go by, then obviously he certainly hadn’t convinced his father-in-law, he thought gloomily. Leaving Walford Grange to Kate for her lifetime use and then to pass on to Russell, instead of leaving it jointly to him and Kate was a direct snub. ‘It’s almost as if he was afraid I would sell up once I got hold of it,’ Robert muttered defiantly, kicking angrily at a fallen branch.
He had expected Kate to understand how hurt he felt at being passed over but she had merely smiled coolly and said it was her home and she was, after all, next-of-kin.
Her calm assurance infuriated him. She’d never even hinted to him in all the years they had been married that eventually she would be the sole owner even though she must have known how much being Lord of the Manor meant to him.
As he strode deeper into the woods his thoughts went back to the first time he had met Kate. Even in her ATS uniform, her patrician manner, and cool unruffled self-assurance, had impressed him. It had been that, almost as much as anything else, that had made him determined to get to know her, just to breach her self-complacent air. He had never considered, not even in his wildest fantasies, that eventually she would fall in love with him or that they would be married.
Summoning up the courage to speak to her had taken a lot of nerve. If she had objected violently, or reported him to her father, he could have ended up on a charge. Not only was she an officer in her own right but the General’s daughter to boot. Of course he had been virile and handsome in those days but, even so, he had found it flattering that she should be so susceptible to his charms. That she had also fallen in love with him had been an added bonus.
Sir Henry had been the stumbling block. But then, Robert thought smugly, what General would be happy to see his only daughter marrying his driver? If he had been a civilian, and not a soldier, it would have been comparable to Kate marrying the chauffeur!
Lady Dorothea, of course, had been quite unapproachable. She had not even tried to disguise her feelings. Robert knew right from their first meeting that she despised him, and saw through him. He had taken the precaution of avoiding her as much as possible. She had wrought her revenge though, he thought darkly, remembering how he and Kate had been forced to live apart because Lady Dorothea had demanded Kate’s presence throughout her long illness. He had only accepted the situation because of the long-term benefits he expected to gain if he was amenable.
Indirectly, Lady Dorothea had triumphed even there, he thought cynically. He had put up with being separated from Kate all those years and yet Lady Dorothea hadn’t even mentioned him in her Will. Sir Henry had also ignored his existence completely even when he had drawn up a new Will to ensure that Walford Grange would eventually go to Russell.
A smile twisted his lips as he remembered the years he had spent in Germany … and Maria. Funny how Kate had reacted to that, almost as if by ignoring the incident it wasn’t happening. He let out a guffaw as his memories welled up. Maria had been so uncomplicated, so raw, earthy, and shallow. She had been fun to be with and tremendous in bed. Nothing prim and proper about her!
It had been Kate’s own fault that he had taken up with Maria, he thought defensively. What red-blooded man wouldn’t have turned elsewhere for solace if his wife left him on the first day of their honeymoon to go back home to nurse her mother. The only thing he regretted was that day Kate had come out to Germany, without a word of warning.
He often wondered if Kate knew there had been other women as well as Maria. After Russell was born, when Kate had stayed home to nurse her father, the girls had been legion; he didn’t remember half of them.
Kate had probably guessed he was being unfaithful but she was too ladylike to discuss it or even reproach him. Which in some ways, he reflected dourly, made him feel all the more guilty. He wondered if the General had ever found out about his casual affairs. Cutting him out of his Will could have been his way of getting back at him, he reflected.
He s
till couldn’t reconcile himself to the fact that after all the work he had put into making Walford Grange a show-piece he had no stake in its ownership. It put him m such an invidious position. If Kate wanted to, she could probably turn him out at a moment’s notice and even have the law on her side.
Not that such a situation was likely to arise, he thought smugly. She allowed him a pretty free hand and accepted his decision on most issues, but there was always the possibility that she might decide to change the way things were done. It was the uncertainty that gnawed at him.
It was fortunate that Russell had taken to army life so well. If he ever decided to come back home then there could be insurmountable problems for all of them. Kate might even decide to let him run things. Still, that was a long way off, for now there were other more pressing matters to be contested. Like opening up Walford Grange to the public and having his Model Farm as the main attraction.
But would Kate agree? He very much doubted it! She had already made it clear that she valued her privacy far too much. She didn’t mind entertaining when it was her own friends. Charity galas, balls, fêtes, all those sort of things, were all right but when it came to actually making money out of entertaining that was much too mercenary! It made his blood boil. First Sir Henry had held the purse strings, now it was Kate and soon it would be Russell.
Not that he was doing it just for the money. They had plenty of that. Home Farm more than paid for the upkeep of Walford Grange. He also had his army pension and Kate had money left to her by her mother, as well as a personal nest-egg from her father. It was the sense of achievement and prominence in the local community that such a venture would bring that fired his determination to go ahead with his scheme.
He lashed out angrily at the undergrowth. In the army he had been someone with authority, a man of standing that others looked up to. Now he was a nonentity! He didn’t own his own home, the horses he rode, or even the cars he drove round in. His wife owned all the clothes, fur coats and inherited jewellery she was ever likely to need. If there was anything at all she desired then she could buy it out of her own money without even mentioning the fact to him. Sir Henry had made sure of that and Robert was quite certain it had been intentional. Being such a dominant character himself, Sir Henry would realise how emasculating being beholden to a woman for even the roof over his head would prove to be. The more Robert thought about it, the more certain he became that the terms of the Will had been calculated deliberately.
He pulled out his pipe and lit up again. He wondered how many of their friends knew the truth about the situation. Lawyers were sworn to secrecy but someone had to type up the letters and documents.
The role that he had been playing for so long was far too enjoyable to lose, Robert decided. Somehow he must ensure that his status remained unchanged. He slammed his fist into the palm of his hand. If only Kate could be persuaded to make the property over to him by Deed of Gift. Even joint ownership would be a welcome concession.
The trouble was that Kate didn’t seem to attach the importance to legal ownership that he did. She never had to assert herself, people took it for granted that she was the ‘lady from Walford Grange’ and acted accordingly.
He had worked hard to establish his place in the local hierarchy. Now he was a Magistrate, a member of the Parish Council, Master of Foxhounds, Chairman of the local Conservative Association, and a school Governor. If his peers found out he had no ownership rights whatsoever to Walford Grange, their attitude towards him might well change. People could be such snobs.
He would talk to Russell about it, he decided. He was sure he would be able to make him understand the situation. Army life would have taught him the importance of rank and position.
Thinking of Russell brought a warm glow to his heart. He was proud of the way he had already begun to ascend the promotional ladder. Being top cadet of his year at Sandhurst had given him a flying start and he would be a Captain any day now.
It pleased him, too, that Russell was establishing a close relationship with Melany Buscombe. If they married, and the land she inherited was amalgamated with Walford Grange it would make Russell the largest landowner in the county.
In some ways, that sort of power was more important than wealth. The knowledge that your ancestors had farmed the same fields for hundreds of years gave you a special sort of standing. ‘The King is dead long live the King’ syndrome, he thought contemptuously. It was why wars were fought, the true meaning of patriotism. And the trouble was, Robert thought gloomily, those who inherited such benefits rarely seemed to appreciate it, they took it for granted.
As he returned home later in the day, his mind was made up. He’d organise a family conference and suggest to both Russell and Kate that they should form a limited company. And if Russell agreed then eventually Kate would have to go along with his scheme to admit the public to view the farm. It would be a start … His mind wandered off as he visualised how successful it could be and by the time he reached the gun room he was whistling.
Chapter 20
Russell Campbell was fully aware that he led a charmed life. Ever since his first day at prep school, Fate had smiled kindly on him. Lessons had never been any problem and, unlike some of his academically inclined classmates, he was also good on the sports field. He had thoroughly enjoyed his time at Eton and found University even more fulfilling.
He had not raised any objections to his father’s idea that he should go into the army straight from University because there was nothing else that he particularly wanted to do. He had always thought his father looked rather splendid in his Guards uniform and quite fancied following in his footsteps. He sensed that his mother was not very keen on the idea but, since she was always over-protective where he was concerned, he imagined she was afraid he might find the rigours of army life rather daunting.
As it had turned out her fears had been groundless. Mabel Sharp had been a stickler for obedience so he had been used to discipline right from the nursery. And his years at boarding school and University had accustomed him to mixing and living with people other than his immediate family.
After he completed his training at Sandhurst, Russell was sent to Wellington Barracks in London and spent most of the next six months either on Guard duty at Buckingham Palace or taking part in ceremonial parades.
Being stationed in London had distinct advantages. There was always plenty going on and a wide variety of things to do, both in and out of Barracks, during off-duty hours. He welcomed the opportunity of being able to go to the theatre and the cinema and see all the latest shows.
It also meant that he was within travelling distance of Walford Grange for weekend leave and Russell made the most of such occasions since it was rumoured that they would be going to Ireland in the very near future for an indefinite tour of duty. Hostilities out there were reaching a new peak as the struggle between Protestants and Catholics heated up. The campaign was spreading and terrorists were once again attacking mainland targets. At the end of March, a bomb placed underneath an MP’s car had gone off just as he was driving away from the House of Commons. And in August, the boat on which Earl Mountbatten was taking a fishing trip off the coast of Ireland was blown up by the IRA, killing him, his grandson and one of the boat boys.
Such wanton destruction of human life incensed Russell. It left him feeling that he should be out there, helping to control the area, not merely parading in London, even though guarding the Queen and the royal palaces was equally important. He sensed that the men serving under him felt much the same way. Gary Collins, his Platoon Sergeant, openly voiced agreement with his sentiments.
He admired Gary Collins. He was in his mid-thirties, a broad-shouldered handsome man with vivid blue eyes, a square face and strong chin. An outspoken cockney, he was invariably good humoured and had a strong infectious laugh.
A professional soldier, Gary Collins was always ready to face trouble squarely. Yet he would never ask any of the men under him to do anything he was not prep
ared to do himself.
He and Sergeant Hugh Edwards were inseparable. They were about the same age and had joined the army straight from school at about the same time and served together for most of their army life.
The bond of friendship between the two men intrigued Russell because they were such exact opposites in both looks and demeanour. Hugh Edwards was dark-haired, handsome, and self-possessed and with alert dark eyes and an authoritative manner. Whereas Gary was friendly to the point of impudence, Hugh Edwards was reserved and spoke only when addressed.
The families of both men lived in Married Quarters and when he had met Gary Collins’ wife, Russell had been amused to see how well she fitted Gary’s description of her. Gary had once told him that he had been brought up by his grandmother who had a pub in the East End and Russell could easily imagine Sheila, a plumpish, faded blonde with a rich cockney accent and a ready wit, in the role of barmaid.
Hugh Edwards’ wife, Ruth, was quite different. He had never spoken to her but with her dark hair and intelligent brown eyes she reminded him very much of Kate. Like her husband, she appeared to be very quiet and reserved.
He might never even have noticed her at all, had it not been for her younger sister, Lucy Woodley. The moment Lucy’s vivid blue eyes locked with his there had been a magnetic attraction that stayed with him. He couldn’t put her out of his mind and he was eager to get to know her. When he went home for the weekend, Lucy Woodley was in his thoughts even when he was out riding with Melany Buscombe.
He and Melany were friends of such long standing that he didn’t have to explain his preoccupation. She assumed that something to do with his work was troubling him and cheerfully ignored the slight tension between them.
