Chapter 2 #2
Now that her experimental friend Edgar Pickles was dead and the fact that her father and sister Ursula were rarely in society, she had precious few outlets for intellectual stimulation.
That and the fact that Martha was… well…
she couldn’t think about that now. The space she went to in her head when she attended lectures – that exquisite domain of new knowledge – when familiar but unapprehended elements of life came into focus and new understanding stretched the canvas of possibilities – was one of the only freedoms she had left.
She felt an elbow poke in her corset. ‘You alright?’ She turned to find Harriet peering at her, a concerned rumple in her forehead.
‘Yes, sorry, I just…’
‘Went into your head.’
‘Yes.’
‘Nicer place to be, I expect.’ Harriet understood.
Thea nodded but said nothing. She looked back at the queen who had, by now, moved on three people and was smiling in front of an animated Cecily Knatchbull.
Although Cecily had the misfortune of being married to the odious Neville and his extravagant outfits, she made the best of every situation where she was out of his company and struggled to contain her chatter.
Now it was clearly gushing out all over the queen, who didn’t seem to mind a bit.
‘Maybe I need to be more like Cecily?’ mumbled Thea. After all she talked to anyone and didn’t care what they thought. A little of that freedom would be welcome. But Harriet spun her head sideways in horror.
‘No.’ she said simply.
Thea allowed herself a small smile. ‘George would prefer it.’ But as she looked up at Harriet, she saw her attention was taken by something else. She looked back to the queen in the direction of Harriet’s rapt stare.
The consort was now talking to Emma Fairclough; Monty’s wife, the richest and most popular lady in the capital and, Thea suspected, the holder of Harriet’s heart.
Six years ago, Harriet had been married off to a boxer and musician – Hugh Henry – in circumstances Thea still didn’t quite understand.
They seemed to have a nice enough time together, spending months at a time travelling around Europe while Hugh fought and played, supported by Harriet’s fortune.
Three months ago, however, Harriet had returned alone, saying that Hugh had run off with an Italian woman and was nowhere to be found.
Harriet made a good show of it, but everyone had heard the rumours about why she and Hugh had been hastily married off in the first place.
Thea and Harriet had once been inseparable and Harriet was one of those people who picked up a friendship exactly where it had ended, but despite their closeness, the subject of her errant husband was strategically avoided.
‘You alright?’ Thea asked, returning the question. Harriet started.
‘Yes,’ she said quickly, diverting her eyes from the ongoing conversation. ‘Just considering our looming interaction with the improvement club.’
Thea’s gaze returned to the queen and her subjects.
Harriet was right. The ladies who surrounded the rich Emma, who included Thea’s sister-in-law Helena, simpered to the queen.
The ladies improvement club met regularly to discuss art, plays and porcelain, and other things Thea found inescapably dull.
What was worse, was that polite society dictated that Thea and Harriet were often engaged in their frequent and protracted discourse.
Despite her best efforts, she had failed to get them excited about either natural philosophy or plants.
‘George will want me with him until he withdraws,’ Thea muttered. ‘You might be on your own.’
‘Hmm,’ mused Harriet, looking between George on one side of the room, and Emma on the other. ‘What’s better, being disregarded by the men or patronised by the women?’
‘Neither,’ said Thea, and meant it with vigour.
‘So charming and so interested,’ gushed Knatchbull to an outwardly interested circle.
Thea tried to keep her eyes on him and a polite smile on her face, even if her mind was wandering.
‘I am so pleased I could connect Her Majesty with Doctors Herbert and Speckle after they were introduced to the King at the levee this week past.’ Despite Thea’s hopes that she could avoid Harriet’s apprentice doctor for the remainder of the evening, here he was, also smiling politely as George and Knatchbull verbally duelled.
Now she could only hope that her lecture-going disguise was good enough.
So far, thankfully, Speckle had paid due attention to all in the circle and none more to her than to any other.
That was promising, but she was still none-the-wiser as to why two doctors were permitted at the King’s Drawing Room.
‘Most impressive,’ said George, clapping Knatchbull on the back just hard enough that his eyes bulged a little.
‘So pleased to see you in the chamber today, Your Grace,’ said Knatchbull, deferring slightly and referencing George’s foray into the political sphere. ‘The proposed bill on enclosure of land is quite a personal interest, you will understand.’
George nodded sharply. ‘I appreciate the urgency,’ he said, ‘when one has recently acquired an estate.’
Barbed, thought Thea. Neville had clawed his way into parliament and society through the acquisition of land, whilst George was landed by birth.
Knatchbull looked with jealousy-fuelled disdain on George’s familial wealth, and George despised merchant made money.
Whilst politics dictated their geniality, they maintained a constant and tedious quest to one-up the other.
Thea and Monty Fairclough shared a knowing, weary look, having witnessed this skirmish a hundred times before.
‘Indeed, my new estate,’ said Knatchbull, with hardly a wince and a determination to dominate the conversation.
‘At our last meeting I did suggest to the King that he could plan to visit Upper Plumbthorne within the year. The modifications are almost complete, including the Royal Suite at his most valued encouragement.’
Excellent riposte, thought Thea. The king and queen had yet to indicate a desire to visit George and Thea’s estate at Hawkdean.
She glanced at George and saw his jaw tighten, but he only nodded.
That was interesting, she thought. He was rarely reticent to offend people, especially those he didn’t like.
The conversation moved on, and Thea set her face in an interested half-smile as the two men sparred around the debates of the day.
Neville Knatchbull had bought swathes of land with money made from his marriage and his undesirable business.
Now he simpered without shame to the right people and applied his liberal wealth wherever he thought it would be to his advantage.
His new venture into growing new plants from the colonies was a shrewd move, bringing him greater connections in ships and plantations, but more importantly providing intellectual talking points with the nobility.
After four years of growing, he now lorded over a thriving ornamental garden which put Thea’s struggling one to shame.
Worse, he somehow seemed to have access to all of the new plants that Thea did not.
If he wasn’t such a highly objectionable man who had earned a fortune through such highly objectionable means and who so consistently devalued the opinions of women, they could have had a productive relationship.
George seemed hopeful to change the subject from Knatchbull’s impending royal visit.
‘I hope you achieved what you wished out of today, Doctors?’ he nodded to Herbert and Speckle.
Thea knew he was asking why they were there.
Doctor Speckle deferred to Herbert, but the older doctor’s dour face hardly registered interest.
‘Most appreciative of Mr Knatchbull’s invite,’ was all he managed with a disinterested drawl. Thea could see why Harriet didn’t value him as a doctor, if his bedside manner was as poor as his conversation.
Doctor Speckle looked intently between George and Doctor Herbert, wondering if he should contribute. Herbert inclined his gaunt head ever so slightly, apparently granting permission.
‘Mr Knatchbull was kind enough to introduce us to Their Majesties,’ he said, in a voice softer than Thea had imagined. ‘The queen is quite the budding botanist and I – I mean Doctor Herbert–’ he quickly corrected himself ‘–has a small experimental plot in the city.’ Thea’s ears pricked up.
‘I see,’ said George flatly. ‘And you will be giving Her Majesty lessons?’
Doctor Speckle smiled at the jibe. ‘Naturally not, Your Grace.’ There was no edge to his manner, Thea noticed. ‘She has a number of growing goals of her own and a few heads are often better than one.’
‘I see,’ said George again, and his eyes flicked to Herbert, whose sour face still betrayed nothing, and then to Knatchbull. Thea knew this would unsettle George. Another link between Knatchbull and the Royals, a further distancing for him.
‘We are most desirous to make a success of the endeavour,’ said Knatchbull, ‘and I believe that between us, we might have the answer.’
That meant that he thought that Doctor Speckle had the answer, thought Thea. If Knatchbull thought he had the answer himself, he would not share the glory, and Thea suspected Doctor Herbert was the same. But what was the question? She was desperate to ask but knew she couldn’t.