CHAPTER FIVE
After three weeks in the house, Louisa did not feel she was living in someone else’s home.
The mustiness had been replaced with pot-pourri and flowers, which she had in all the reception rooms. Some furniture had been moved about to more pleasing positions, which in some cases meant the lumber room.
She had received a visit from old Lady Frampton’s solicitor, who had recommended that she retain the services of Mr Orslow, her late ladyship’s man of business, and who knew the estate well.
Mr Orslow, who was elderly, and walked with a stick, showed himself to be still very nimble of mind, and for his part was pleased that the new lady of Elliston Court was rather happier to invest in the Home Farm than her predecessor.
The farmer’s wife, he said, had proved a very able cheese maker, and if given the chance to extend the dairy, looked set fair to supply not only the cheesemongers and posting houses in Frome, but hostelries in Bath as well.
Lady Frampton had been sceptical, he said, in a deadpan voice, but then she did not much care for cheese.
‘Mrs Knowle suggested him, since it was imperative that the nursery be created as soon as possible. She said his reputation stands very high for both his results and the tidiness of his working and behaviour of his workmen.’
‘Indeed, my lady. You may care to visit Bath to select furnishings, for there is a greater variety there than in Frome.’
‘Oh, dear Lady Dembleby, you could not possibly have known, but you come at such a happy hour.’ Lady Barkby clasped her hands together. ‘He is returned to us, alive, if not in good health. May I present my son, Major Barkby.’
The man turned, slowly. He was broad shouldered, though his coat seemed to hang off him, was a little above average height and had rich brown hair cut a little shorter than was entirely fashionable.
His complexion was that of a man used to the outdoor life of campaigning, but faded to a sickly hue, and his cheeks were as gaunt as his ailing father’s.
His mouth was firm, and his eyes a grey-blue beneath a broad brow.
What had drawn Louisa’s gaze, however, was his right hand, which he now placed behind him.
The thumb remained, but the fingers had been severed so that none existed beyond the first joint.
He made her a bow, his expression a mixture of surprise and wariness.
‘Major Barkby, I am delighted to meet you, not least because your poor mama has been in such anxiety about you.’
He was silent for some moments, staring at her so long that she felt herself beginning to blush.
‘Forgive me, ma’am. I must appear rude in the extreme.
’ He paused. He could not say that his tongue was tying itself into knots.
‘I … I have arrived home but this morning, and I am not fit for company. My mind is attempting to adjust to what should be familiar, and yet feels strange.’ He hoped that made sense.
‘Apology is not necessary, Major, I assure you. I will not intrude, but I brought over some fruits. I thought perhaps 64Lord Barkby might enjoy them.’ Louisa looked at Lady Barkby, and smiled, holding out the basket.
‘How thoughtful of you. Please, do not depart precipitately. I was about to ring for tea and it would be a pleasure to have you stay, would it not, Benfield?’ She beamed at her son.
‘Er, yes, yes indeed.’ He moved forward into the room with an obvious limp, and when Louisa had sat down he seated himself, cautiously, swiftly covering the disfigured hand with his good one.
Louisa wondered what to say. The usual platitudes suitable for taking tea in the afternoon were hardly applicable to a man who looked very much as though he had just come back from the very jaws of death.
Lady Barkby filled the awkward silence.
‘We were completely taken by surprise, you know. There was no message, nothing to say that Benfield was even arriving back in England, but he came into Bristol yesterday evening, having fortuitously obtained passage on a ship bringing wines to the vintners there.’
‘Fortuitous indeed. I am sure that carriage travel is far from comfortable when one has sustained wounds.’
‘A carriage is far more comfortable than a Portuguese ox cart, ma’am, I promise you.
The wounded suffer much in them. The drivers never grease the wheels because the awful squeaking keeps the Devil away, and the wheels are not iron bound, and so frequently have a portion missing. The jolting is abominable.’
‘Yes, dear, but I am sure Lady Dembleby does not need descriptions of hardships.’ Lady Barkby’s tone was 65decidedly one of ‘this is not a suitable topic for discussion’.
‘It sounds as if such descriptions ought to be more widely known rather, so that public outcry might make the provision for our wounded soldiers the better.’ Louisa frowned. ‘I had thought Lord Wellington would have seen to such a thing.’
‘I think, ma’am, that it is more the case that the ox carts are the only vehicles available in many places. His lordship would certainly do what he could to ensure more of his troops survive to rejoin their regiments.’
‘Oh good, here is the tea,’ announced Lady Barkby, with patent relief, as the door was opened and the tray was brought in. ‘How is your sweet little girl, Lady Dembleby?’
‘Enjoying the fine weather, and highly inquisitive. She has now made “friends” with my head gardener, the cook and the cat, and is a firm favourite with each of them. At least, the cat has not expressed an opinion, but now has to be watched lest it slip into the nursery.’
‘How old is your daughter?’ Major Barkby, watching her as she accepted her tea, and thinking how beautiful her hands were, managed a simple question without bumbling.
‘She celebrates her third birthday on the twentieth of this month. I fear I am a doting mama, but I do try to ensure she is not spoilt.’ She smiled, but the expression froze at his next comment.
‘It must be very difficult for you … in your unfortunate state …’ He knew he had said something wrong before she said the one word.
‘Why?’ It was a challenge.
‘Well, er … bringing up a child without a father … er …’
66‘Since she was blissfully unaware of his existence, and he avoided her at every opportunity, I can see no difference whatsoever.’ She sounded angry, and her cheeks grew spots of colour.
She cursed herself inwardly for her impulsive words, for she was doing just what her father had said she must not do.
Major Barkby opened his mouth, and then closed it again. A wise officer knew when tactical withdrawal was the only option. He had obviously hit a very raw nerve, though he could not have possibly known she would react this way. Tea was drunk in silence. Lady Barkby eventually broke it.
‘When a very young child loses a family member, they are spared the sense of loss that breaks older hearts, for which one can but be glad, although I sometimes wish Benfield had some kind memory of his sisters, who were taken from us with barely time to christen them. I would have loved a daughter. Not that you are not precious to me, my darling boy.’ Lady Barkby sighed.
Normally, her son would have cringed at the sentiment, but on this occasion he gave three silent cheers for his mama’s tendency to revive the miseries of three decades past. Louisa, seeing the genuine look of sadness upon the older woman’s face, could not accuse her of merely trying to divert wrath.
It made her feel even more guilty for being so intemperate herself.
‘Indeed, ma’am. You have my sympathies, for such losses, even after a great passage of time, must weigh heavily upon a mother.’ She turned back to the major, paused, and then said, in a small voice, ‘And I must apologise for my heated words, sir. You could not have guessed …’
67He raised his good hand and stopped her. ‘Alas, I am come from the company of soldiers and am not used to the society of ladies. I spoke without sufficient thought. Let us count all as unsaid, and feel the better for it.’
‘Thank you, Major Barkby.’ He watched her cheeks as the anger mellowed to the pink of embarrassment, and was conscious of holding his breath as he did so, but then realised her gaze had dropped to his disfigurement.
He stiffened. This would be how it would always be from now on. His other wounds might have been more severe, but the lost fingers would be what everyone remembered about him. It would be ‘Oh yes, that poor man with the mangled hand’ even if, as he intended to do when in public, he wore a glove.
‘I ought to be going. You have had many days of travel, sir, and when in pain and poor health. I will leave you to peace and quiet. It must appear very inconsequential, small talk, when one has faced … I am sorry.’ She looked at the floor, and rose from her chair.
‘Thank you for the tea, Lady Barkby. Do come and visit when you are able.’
There were suitable expressions of anticipated pleasure at doing so, and Louisa left. Major Barkby, standing very still, closed his eyes.
‘Are you in pain, my dear?’ asked his mother solicitously.
‘No, Mama.’ It was half true. He felt worn to the bone, and his head was spinning. ‘Tell me, who exactly is Lady Dembleby?’
Louisa arrived home in some degree of agitation, and Mrs Goodworth wondered what on earth might have occurred 68during a simple visit to deliver fruit. Louisa explained that Major Barkby had arrived home.
‘Oh Hetty, it was awful,’ exclaimed Louisa. ‘I know he saw me stare at his hand.’
‘Well how could you not, dear cousin. It must have been frightful, seeing such a ghastly sight.’
‘But I ought not to have done so. It was rude; it was unkind. You know, I never thought I would say this about a man, but I felt sorry for him. I do not know what other wounds he sustained, but he limped, and he looked terribly ill.’
‘Oh, pray do not say it was anything infectious!’ Mrs Goodworth cast up her hands.