Chapter 19 To London
Lance retreated to his room. His first instinct was to send for Denny and pour out all that he had heard, for this, surely, was the secret behind Denny’s long exile from England and his place in society.
A Wyatt! He knew of them, of course. He had even painted one of the daughters who had married a man of wealth in the north, but he had never met the male members of the family.
But Hammond’s caution infected him, too.
‘A man who has been lost for ten years might be unhappy to be found again,’ he had said, and that was true enough.
Besides, there could be any number of men of Denny’s age who had become estranged from their families.
So he wrote some letters to his family, went out for a walk, whereupon the Merrington ladies mysteriously appeared.
He flirted a little with Charlotte, and sent for Denny only when it was time to dress for dinner.
He waited until he was immersed in the bath tub before broaching the subject.
“Had a chat with Hammond today.”
“Oh yes? What did he have to say?” Denny said, a hint of crossness in his voice. “Nothing to the point, I imagine.”
“True enough. Some tale about a man looking for his missing brother. The brother is a fencer, apparently, so naturally Hammond thought I would know the fellow. As if I know every fencer in England! More hot water, if you will.”
Denny emptied a ewer over his head. “You must know most of them. Anyone who passes through Angelo’s, anyway.”
“Well, I never heard of this Wyatt at Angelo’s, or anywhere else.”
Lance lay back in the water, eyes closed, studiously casual, but well aware that Denny had stopped moving, his breathing somewhat rapid.
“How is it this brother is missing?”
“The man looking for him would not say. He is calling himself Augustus Wyatt, and puts up at the Royal Oak, so he is not short of the readies. That is one of the better hotels in Brinchester, is it not?”
“That and the White Rose are the best in town.” Denny’s voice had returned to normal. “What made him come to Brinchester? Or is he working methodically through every town in England?”
“Well, that is the strangest part of it all,” Lance said, hauling himself upright so rapidly that water sloshed onto the floor.
“Someone broke into Hammond Senior’s house at night and dripped candle wax on papers to do with the Wyatts — a family tree, or some such.
Hammond mentioned it to the fellow who drew up the chart, who knew this Augustus Wyatt, so he told him about it, and the fool must have assumed that it was his brother who dripped the wax.
Lord knows, there could hardly be a less secure conclusion, but here he is.
I dare say he will be on the doorstep here before too long, for if he is looking for a gentleman who fences, some busybody will be sure to mention my name. I am ready for the towel now.”
For a while there was silence as they performed the all-important dressing ritual. Lance waited until he was tying his neckcloth before saying, as casually as he dared, “All my linens are past their best now. I really need to resupply.”
“There is a tolerably good draper in Brinchester,” Denny said.
“A provincial draper? Heavens, no! It will have to be town. I have been buried in the country for too long, I think, and I am not sure I want to wait until we all go up after Easter. Denny, my friend, would it be too great an imposition if I ask you to go ahead of me and organise everything? Coats, boots, hats, gloves — everything for the summer. You know best what suits me, and it will be wonderful to have it all waiting for me when I arrive. If I give you a purse of money, could you catch the stage tomorrow? No need to wait, is there?”
“How will you manage?” Denny said. “I know just how you like your clothes kept.”
“I shall just have to put up with the services of one of the footmen,” Lance said, smiling. “Just think how happy I will be to see you again when I get up to town. There! I am ready. My coat, if you please.”
***
To Georgie, it was as if the skies were permanently grey.
The spring flowers lost their colour, the fresh green of the trees was dull and drear, and even the simple pleasure of her own apartment no longer brought her joy.
No matter how many times she had told herself sternly not to get too excited about the baby, she had, naturally.
What woman could not? It was the great consolation of this odd second marriage, that there would be a child to make them a proper family.
And now there was nothing. No child and no marriage either. Jamie had withdrawn utterly, and even though they went through the same rituals and behaved in the same way, it was all a sham, for each night he went off to the spare bedroom and left her, abandoned and alone, in the big bed.
They never talked about it. She never asked him why and he offered no explanation.
He was just as kind to her as always, just as gently solicitous, bringing flowers from the hot house for her, or little treats from Brinchester.
He woke her each morning with a cup of tea and then prepared breakfast. He even tidied away afterwards.
He talked about his work and encouraged her to continue helping with the transcribing, to fill the long, empty hours.
He sat beside her at dinner, reaching whatever dish she wanted to try, and then offered to play cribbage with her afterwards.
But then he went upstairs and into his own bedroom and left her alone.
And somehow, as her grief over the baby diminished a little, it was the loss of Jamie that grew in her mind and came to haunt her, day and night.
Easter came and went in a flurry of local engagements for the duke and his family, and then there was the great departure for London.
The duke and duchess and all the Merringtons went away in a great train of carriages, with footmen and outriders in the duke’s own livery.
Mr Payne, Sophia and Lady Juliet left two days later with Mr Chamberlain, in less dramatic style by way of an elderly travelling carriage and only two horses.
Mr Pyott went off to stay with his sister in Brinchester, and even Mr Godley decamped to the north, for a few weeks of striding about the Lake Country with some clerical friends.
The dining room was closed up, and, with all the upper servants gone too, Georgie and Jamie ate their dinner with Hester in the housekeeper’s little office in the basement.
Georgie found a new outlet for her energies, in helping Hester with the household chores now that her usual helpers, Charlotte and Mrs Merrington, were away.
Even though there was much less to do with so few people left at Staineybank, there were still several times a day that Hester needed to go upstairs, and Georgie was happy to undertake such commissions, to save Hester the effort.
“You have moved the tea caddies in here,” Georgie said one evening, as they sat down to eat.
Hester frowned. “I thought it best. I keep them locked now, too. After Mr Fothergill’s pronouncement, I tasted Rowena’s tea myself.
The taint, as he called it, was quite subtle, I thought.
If I had not been looking for it, I should never have noticed it.
But when that batch was finished, I gave the caddy a thorough scrub and refilled it with the new supply.
No taint, but it seemed best to keep the tea locked, just in case anyone had tampered with it. ”
“Mr Fothergill? Taint?” Georgie cried. “What is going on?”
“You were right about the tea you drank that tasted so awful,” Jamie said. “There was something wrong with it. It could have been simply a bad batch, or some kind of mould, but there is always the fear that someone was deliberately tampering with Rowena’s tea.”
“Surely not!” Georgie said. “Why would anyone do such a thing?”
“I think it more likely that someone has been stealing the tea,” Hester said.
“Rowena’s tea is the most expensive we keep.
I think someone waits until there is a new batch, then takes a portion for themselves — or to sell, possibly — and replaces it with something else, dried leaves of some sort.
It appears not to be poisonous, but it would be foolish to take chances.
So, I moved the caddies in here, so that I can see them.
People are in and out of the pantry all day long, so anyone could have access to the tea, but in here, where the door stays closed and I am often here, there is less opportunity for anyone to get to the caddies.
They are locked and only I keep the key. ”
“But I think it is poisonous,” Georgie said. “I’m sure that’s why Sophia and I both lost our babies on the same day, after we both drank Rowena’s tea.”
“You were with child, too?” Hester said. “Oh, Georgie, I am so very sorry. And you lost a baby before, did you not? How dreadful for you, but… could it really be the tea? If no one else was affected, just the two ladies who are enceinte? It seems… unlikely. It could be nothing but coincidence.”
“Even if it were the tea,” Jamie said, “causing miscarriage could hardly be the intention. Who would want to do such a thing?”
“Rowena has been drinking this tea since she arrived here,” Hester said, “which includes a successful confinement. This is merely a tragic coincidence, I am sure.”
“I believe I agree,” Jamie said slowly. “I have no wish to make light of what happened, Georgie, but perhaps we are looking for reasons where none exist. Sometimes babies are lost and it is just God’s will, and there is no earthly explanation.
Look at the duke’s second duchess — she lost baby after baby, and that cannot all have been tainted tea, could it? ”
Georgie smiled. “You’re right, of course. I lost a baby before with no tea involved. It’s so tempting to think… it must have been something I did, but these things just happen sometimes.”