Chapter 12 A Bridge Over The River
The following morning, Sophia and her sisters were permitted a brief visit to congratulate Rowena and admire their new niece. Richard held the sleeping baby in his arms, gazing down at his daughter with a beatific expression on his face.
“Is she not perfect?” he murmured, as the sisters cooed over her. “Look at her tiny fingers… and such long eyelashes! She is the most beautiful creature.”
Sophia stared at the wrinkled little face and blotchy skin, saying all that was proper but rather shocked that she was not, in fact, perfect, despite the delightful little hands now curled into fists and the eyelashes that would be the envy of her friends, if they survived to adulthood.
Wisps of dark hair peeped out from beneath an overlarge cap, and occasionally her lips made little movements as she slept.
Perhaps she dreamed… did babies dream? And of what could their dreams be filled?
Milk, she supposed and the strangeness of the world, so new and so filled with noise and light and colour and movement.
Rowena was sitting up in bed, her breakfast tray still before her. She looked tired and very pale, as if she were recovering from the influenza.
“What do you think of her?” she asked, smiling as the sisters left the baby to Richard and surrounded the new mother instead.
“So small!”
“So delicate!”
“Beautiful!”
Sophia scratched around for something true to say. “She seems to like sleeping in Richard’s arms.”
Rowena rolled her eyes. “She has a perfectly good crib, but he dotes on her… quite the besotted father.”
“And you… how are you?” Charlotte said. “Was it awful?”
“No… well, it was unpleasant, of course, that cannot be denied, but well worth it. She is the sweetest baby, and I am sure the next one will be a boy.”
The others jumped in to agree with her, but Sophia stayed silent.
Producing babies was the whole purpose of marriage, and presumably one grew accustomed to all the inconveniences of it, but it did not greatly appeal to her at that moment.
As for the pressure to produce a son — she was thankful she was never likely to marry into the peerage, and thus be expected to provide the all-important son and heir.
“Such a relief that all is well after that dreadful fall,” Maria, ever the most tender-hearted of the sisters, said. “Such an anxious time for everyone.”
“But so fortunate that the gamekeeper was near at hand to help us,” Augusta said.
“The duke gave him five guineas to thank him for his services,” Charlotte said.
And that reminded Sophia of the rake, which had been driven quite out of her head by other events.
She should go back to the spot where Rowena had fallen, and examine the rake more closely.
She did not want anyone else to know about it, however, for the duke was bound to make an almighty fuss when he heard.
So when the sisters went downstairs again, and settled down to their usual occupations, she made an excuse to slip away, quickly donned her outdoor clothes and made her way out of the house by a garden door.
The rake was gone. Rowena stood on the exact spot, her cloak pulled tight around her to keep out the chill February air, and stared at the step, but there was no doubt about it.
Where the rake had lain, half on the step and half on the grassy bank to the side, now there was nothing but a stray leaf or two.
The snow had all melted, so there was no possibility of the rake being buried. Someone had tidied it away.
The crunching sound of booted feet in the woods across the river recalled to her mind the gamekeeper who had been so fortuitously nearby. Perhaps the path through the trees was a regular route for the outdoor servants, and one of them had spotted the rake.
“Who is there?” she called out.
The footsteps stopped, then began to come nearer, and there again was the gamekeeper.
“Oh, it is you! Lovell, is it not?”
“Aye, Ben Lovell. Are you in trouble, miss?”
“No, but… I should like to ask you a question, if I may.”
As before, he came over the bridge to Sophia’s side of the river. Again, he had a gun over one shoulder, and a game bag hung from his waist. This time, he had a couple of pointers at his heels.
“I thought it was mere chance that you were passing by the other day when Mrs Richard Merrington fell, but now I see that you often pass this way,” she said.
He replied easily, “Aye, I go that way several times a day, going back and forth to the game store. No reason I shouldn’t, is there?”
“Of course not!” she said hastily. “I meant only — Well, never mind. It was fortunate you were here to help, anyway.”
“I hope she’s going on well,” he said politely. “And the babe, too.”
“They seem to be very well, both of them.”
“Lucky, after a fall like that,” he said. “Could’ve broke her neck. You said you had a question for me.”
“Yes, I do. After Mrs Richard’s fall, I noticed a rake lying on the steps, which must have been what tripped her. I wondered if you had noticed it… or know what happened to it?”
“Aye, I saw it. When I came back to collect my bags after helping the fallen lady, I saw it there, where it should never have been. What was anyone doing with a rake just there? Makes no sense, and dangerous, too. Took it back to the gardeners, didn’t I?
Started a right to-do, that.” He chuckled, his sallow face looking suddenly less dour.
“They all swore it weren’t them as left it there.
Thought they were going to set about each other with shovels. ”
She laughed. “Oh dear! I was afraid of something of the sort. I planned to take it quietly back to the head gardener and simply say I saw it lying, without saying where. I hope no one was turned off because of it?”
He shook his head. “Couldn’t agree who it was, so no one lost their place. They need to be more careful with their things, don’t they? Be a fine thing if I were to leave my gun lying about, wouldn’t it? If that’s all, miss…?”
She hesitated, but the question worried away inside her.
“Do you think…? I mean, is it worth mentioning to anyone? The duke or my brother, for instance? It was just carelessness, surely, that the rake was left there, and I would not wish anyone to get into trouble for such a simple mistake. It was just a mistake, was it not?”
He looked surprised. “You don’t think it was deliberate, do you?”
“I cannot see why anyone would do that, but Rowena took the same walk at the same time every day, so if anyone did want to cause her harm—”
“No one wants to harm her,” he said sharply. “A lovely lady like that, and all the family’s hopes resting on her and the new babe — no, it’s impossible. Put that idea right out of your head, miss.”
She agreed to it, thanked him again, and followed him back to the house.
***
Simon’s designs for the orangery were completed, but, mindful of Juliet’s instructions to spin out their stay at Staineybank for as long as possible, he made no effort to present them to the duke.
Instead, he occupied himself with sketching ideas for the interior.
But inevitably the day came when the duke looked down the dining table at Simon and remembered why he was there.
“Anything new to show me, Payne? You must have some fresh ideas for this orangery after all this time.”
“I have, your grace. After seeing how the Marshfields orangery was arranged, I have come up with a completely different plan that I believe would suit Mrs Richard Merrington very well, and would be an enhancement to Staineybank itself.”
Richard, who had resumed dining with the family, snorted at this, but the duke merely nodded easily.
“Tomorrow at noon, in my study, Payne.”
When Simon arrived, sketchbooks in hand, he found that he faced an audience of five. Apart from Richard and the duke himself, the duke’s secretary, James Hammond, and Mr Hammond Senior were both there, and also Mr Pyott, the comptroller.
“The key feature of the Marshfields orangery,” Simon began, “is that it is attached to the house. That means it can be used all year round as an additional room. The Duke of Camberley uses it as his private retreat as he recovers from illness, and even in the depths of winter it is warm and comfortable. Mindful that Mrs Richard wishes to be able to use her orangery every day, I have ventured to modify my original design to connect it to the house. The new design retains an imposing location on the far side of the lake, but now it is connected to the house by way of a bridge… thus.”
“A bridge!” Richard said. “What on earth is all this likely to cost, Payne?”
“I will address that point in a moment. You will see that the bridge and orangery will be visible from every room at the front of the house, and—”
“We already have a bridge over the river,” Richard muttered. “An elegant little bridge, too, not a monstrosity like this. And this huge window in the centre — it is preposterous! Why must you make it so large?”
“Because the bridge contains a gallery,” Simon said diffidently. “There is no gallery at Staineybank, and every great house should have one, in my opinion. And it will make an excellent ballroom, too.”
“A ballroom! Great heavens, why not just throw out a new wing, while you are at it? Or perhaps you would prefer to knock down the whole house and start anew?”
“Knock down a Campbell house?” Simon said, shocked. “No, indeed! But I hope my suggestions are in keeping with his work.”
The duke began to laugh. “You like this house, I think, Payne?”
“It is a glorious house, your grace. I would not change anything about the original, but Mrs Richard wants to be able to use her orangery every day, and this is a way in which it could be done, while providing an additional feature.”
“A ballroom…” the duke said thoughtfully. “Why a ballroom?”
“It is a great pleasure to young ladies to dance, and there is no place for a proper ball in the current design.”