Chapter 19 Lord Edlesborough
Simon and Juliet travelled in the utmost comfort.
A spell of dry weather and the lengthening days meant that they could, at a pinch, have made the journey to Edlesborough in a single day, but they chose instead to make an overnight stay in Kidderminster, where the duke’s livery brought them impeccable service and an excellent dinner.
Juliet was in excellent spirits. Her fine new clothes, even though only borrowed, and the deference accorded to anyone travelling under the auspices of the Duke of Brinshire, gave her a new confidence.
Although she worried a little about the expense of their journey, the sight of Simon’s bag of gold from Thwaite brought an astonished ‘Oooh!’ to her lips, and after that she said no more about it, even when presented with a dish of woodcock and a lobster, with a bottle of the best claret.
They made an early start the next morning, aiming to reach Edlesborough by noon.
That way, if they were able to see the earl, there would still be plenty of time to return to Kidderminster before dusk.
Simon expected to be thrown out peremptorily, in which case they would be on the road again even more swiftly.
As they travelled, Juliet became more and more subdued, until Simon noticed that every attempt at conversation foundered with a monosyllabic answer.
“Are you quite well, sister?” he said gently.
Mutely she shook her head.
“Do you wish to abandon the enterprise? We can turn round and return to Kidderminster, if you wish it, or we can stop at the next inn we see, if you are unwell.”
“No, not unwell,” she said, hunching her shoulders miserably.
“It is only that… must I come inside with you? I am not sure that I can face… him. I should like to see Andrew and Luke again, for I have some vague memories of them, and I should very much like to meet the countess, to thank her personally for all those little presents she sent us, but Father? Must I?”
Simon was very aware of the valet and maid on the opposite seat, studiously looking out of the windows and pretending not to hear.
“You need not come inside if you had rather not,” he said. “In fact, I shall not be surprised if I fail to set foot over the threshold myself.”
“Might I wait for you in the carriage? You need not even mention me. That would be best, would it not?”
And so it was agreed.
Before long, the villages they passed through began to look familiar to Simon, and then they were in Kingsley Heath, with its church, smithy and inn, bringing back a thousand jumbled memories.
The villagers walking about or tending their gardens turned to stare as the carriage passed by.
A woman hanging washing bobbed a curtsy, and several men doffed their hats, seeing the mark of a nobleman on the carriage door.
Then they were turning down the lane beside the church, passing between bare fields and finally sweeping through open gateposts into Edlesborough.
There was only a short distance between gate and house, not long enough for Simon to tame his thoughts into composure.
After fifteen years, he was finally coming home.
There was the south lawn, a little ragged at this season.
Over there, the stable yard was hidden behind a stand of trees.
To the other side, a wide path led round to the formal gardens and the deer park.
Memories tumbled over themselves as he gazed avidly through the windows.
There was the tree where Luke had fallen and broken his arm when he was showing off to the Dillon girls.
At the bottom of the lawn was the flat stretch where they had practised their archery, and Andrew had once shot a peacock.
Where was the pool where Matthew had almost drowned, before Simon had hauled him out by his feet?
Somewhere behind the shrubbery, he thought.
But the memories from inside the house were less happy — the library where his father ruled like an emperor, or the dining room where meals were punctuated by dyspeptic outbursts.
Worse, the attic room where he was banished for some imagined transgression, even his sketch books taken away from him.
He shivered. Perhaps staying in the carriage was a sensible response, or simply turning round and heading straight back to Kidderminster.
But they were already passing under the great arch to enter the courtyard and sweeping round to halt before the steps to the front door.
One of the footmen leapt down from the back to open the door and lower the steps.
“Good luck,” Juliet whispered.
So… was he going to do this? Was he a man or a mouse? He stepped down onto the drive, and strode forward, his boots crunching on the gravel, and took the steps two at a time.
His hand reached for the knocker, and fell back, nonplussed.
It was draped in black crêpe. His arrival was inopportune if there had been a death in the house.
One of the aunts, he supposed, or perhaps one of the children…
Andrew’s, maybe. That would occasion a certain amount of grief, even from his unfeeling father, but clearly not a great deal, for it was a very small amount of crêpe, barely enough to silence the knocker.
A girl, then. He had never cared about the girls.
While he stood, irresolute, on the step, one side of the great double doors opened and a footman in black appeared.
“This way, sir, if you please.”
An invitation to enter could not be refused, however unexpected.
Simon followed him into the familiar hall, a good fire blazing in the massive hearth.
His father had always kept the place warm, that at least could be said for him.
He never stinted on coal or wood, or candles, either, he recalled, his eyes almost dazzled by the giant chandelier.
“You may wait in here, sir,” the footman said, holding open the door to the Ante Chamber.
That was puzzling. It was almost as if he was expected.
“I am here to see the earl,” Simon said, just in case there had been a misunderstanding.
“Yes, sir. I will notify him of your arrival.”
“But…” Simon said, but the man had gone before he could point out that he had not yet given his name.
Had the footman recognised him? No, he thought not, for he was too young to remember the gangly fifteen-year-old who had left Edlesborough so long ago.
Besides, if he had known him, he would either have refused him entry altogether, or else shown him into the more commodious Blue Room.
The Ante Chamber was where the lower orders, lawyers, bailiffs and messengers, were placed before being admitted to the Presence.
Still, there was a good fire burning, an array of drinks and pastries laid out, as if someone was expected, so he poured himself a glass of something to fortify his spirits while he waited.
After a few minutes, the door opened again, and an older man walked in, the well-remembered shape of the butler.
“Good morning, sir. You are here to see his lordship, I understand.”
“I am, yes, but—”
“He will be pleased to receive you shortly.”
“Will he?” Simon said, startled. “Then he has changed a great deal.”
The butler looked startled for a moment, before he permitted himself a wintry smile. “I believe he is much as he ever was, sir.”
Something caused him to look more carefully at Simon, and his expression slowly passed through bewilderment, then surprise and finally, a pleased excitement. “Master Simon? Is it you?”
“It is, Spearman. Why are you still here? Surely it is past time for that little cottage in the village, and days spent at the Plough playing cribbage.”
The smile broadened. “Soon, Master Simon, very soon now. I have just been waiting— Well, not long now. Wait a moment, sir, if you please.”
He opened the door, and gave some hurried orders to the footman manning the hall, who loped off into the interior of the house.
“Well, my goodness, sir, you got here so quickly. We never expected you so soon. We thought you were the attorney or we should never have put you in here. Heavens, but his lordship will be so pleased to see you! He has spoken of you constantly these last few days, but of course we knew it could be a while. Yet here you are! And so well grown! My goodness, sir, how you have filled out and a good head taller than when you left us, I swear! And looking so well. Such a fine thing to have you back at Edlesborough after all these years. I am so pleased that the Good Lord spared me this long, to see you again.”
Simon made no attempt to interrupt these effusions. No doubt when he saw his father, he would find out just why he was so keen to see him.
The door burst open and a great crowd of people poured in, and on their faces, too, he saw nothing but smiles of welcome. How strange! How very unlike the Edlesborough he remembered, as a subdued place, with nary a smile to be seen, except in company.
His father was not one of those beaming at him. Three of his brothers, the wife of his eldest brother, several people he did not recognise and an older woman… Oh, he knew her. Yet there was a difference. That dreadful haunted look had gone from her eyes.
“Mama?”
“Simon! Oh, Simon!” She fell into his arms and burst into tears.
Simon laughed, and over his mother’s head, buried on his chest, he said to his eldest brother, Andrew, “This is not the reception I expected, but I am very pleased to see you all, naturally. I even recognise some of you. Lady Kendle. John. Matthew.”
“Do you not recognise me, brother?” said one of the ladies. “I am Rachel, and this is Elizabeth, and… where are you, Martha? Ah, there you are, and this scamp is Mark, and that is Ruth, who should not even be here. Have you slipped away from Miss Towers again, young lady?”
“Well, how could I recognise you when you were still in the nursery when I left?” Simon protested. “And Ruth, I think, should be there now. How old are you, Ruth?”
But she only sucked her thumb and clutched a doll to her chest.