Chapter 4 #3
Thea blew out a slow breath, trying not to give away how this news affected her in front of George and her staff.
She knew Ursula would be trying to reassure her of Martha’s safety, which she surely must be right about, however, if Martha was able to send instruction to Denbury, she would surely be able to send at least a note to Thea?
That must mean that she had chosen to create distance.
Devastation and nausea washed through her.
Thea gritted her teeth and read the last paragraph.
Anyway, I hope I have saved the best news until last. Mother has worn down Father’s resolve, and we shall be in London from October for a month. I hope we shall see you often as we missed your visit to Milford this year. I am hoping you are working on George to bring you next summer.
At this Thea let out an involuntary exhalation of pleasure.
Seeing her father and her sister would be just the tonic that she needed.
And her mother, of course. Although less so.
She had been desperate to see them in the summer just gone but George said he was busy and didn’t like her travelling alone.
At the noise of her pleasure George put down his paper, almost looking surprised to see her there. He said nothing but raised an eyebrow in question.
‘From my sister, Your Grace’ Thea explained. ‘They are to come up to town next month. We will be able to see them, I hope?’ She hated having to ask.
He nodded. ‘Of course. ‘I shan’t relish the company of your mother, but it would be churlish not to see them whilst they are in town.’ Thea nodded her thanks.
He still didn’t offer any reasoning as to why he had summoned her, but she knew he didn’t need to. Maybe it was just another way to exert control? Make her breakfast with him where they could sit in silence?
Maybe she wouldn’t let him.
‘Mr Fenwick arrived this morning, Your Grace,’ she said, trying to catch his eye across the long table as he snapped his fingers for more jam. ‘He will attend three times a week while we are in London and then during the summer he will spend a few weeks at a time at Hawkdean to tutor the children.’
He paused as he placed another pastry onto his plate. ‘To tutor Edward?’ he asked, pointedly.
‘Exactly.’ Thea eyed him over the top of her coffee cup and he sighed – frustrated.
She knew that he needed her to run the house and the garden at Hawkdean, and he liked how she did it.
No fuss to him, and she was in the process of transforming it into a proper ducal residence.
Tasteful decoration which highlighted George’s family wealth without being vulgar, a well-presented garden offering interest throughout the country season and an attentive staff who ran both houses like clockwork.
It was the only reason he tolerated her ‘quirks’, and the only reason she had any sliver of autonomy remaining.
‘Did you remember Mr Fenwick from when we were in Sussex, Fletcher?’ Thea asked, as the butler poured her a second coffee.
She considered that she might get more conversation out of him that George.
Fletcher raised a greying eyebrow in thought.
‘I am sure he visited Denbury and Lady Foxmore on a number of occasions.’
Fletcher’s eyebrow fell again. ‘I do, Your Grace. He brought you to visit the glasshouses.’
‘Indeed, we did,’ she said, remembering fondly as George turned over his paper, trying not to get involved. ‘I hope you will ensure he has everything he requires?’
‘Of course, Your Grace,’ nodded Fletcher
‘Will you visit Mr Fenwick to welcome him?’ asked Thea, turning to George. He looked up impassively.
‘I shouldn’t think so,’ he said with as much enthusiasm. ‘I have an… appointment.’
She nodded her head in polite acquiescence.
George appreciated, she knew, that she didn’t make a fuss about his various dalliances with women, or the particular one of this winter – Miss Bellegarde – who he was keeping with a modest retainer in a house in Turner’s Court.
Thea didn’t make a fuss, mainly because it had been their arrangement at their engagement.
He could take women as he wished with no fuss from her, she could engage in scholarly activity.
She would uphold her end of the bargain, even if he didn’t uphold his.
It was also a mercy that it prevented him coming to her at night – a feature of their early marriage which she hadn’t cared for.
It hadn’t been quite as awful as she had imagined it might be, but nothing about it was enjoyable, apart from the eventual children.
Martha had told her to choose a man who didn’t diminish her, and she had tried.
She had chosen pragmatically, but they said that weddings brought an end to wooing and he had turned out controlling and with a temper she didn’t trust.
‘As you wish,’ she said, knowing that acquiescence was the only sensible response. He nodded and sipped his coffee. Thea saw Fletcher look between them and frown slightly – clearly, he was as perplexed as she was that George hadn’t raised the reason he wanted Thea in the room.
Fletcher cleared his throat. ‘I believe that there were some interesting conversations about growing last night, Your Grace,’ he said, directing his comments at George. ‘Particularly with the queen?’
That seemed to spark something in George at least. Surely, he hadn’t drunk so much last night that his memory was so bad this morning?
‘Oh yes,’ he said. ‘Interesting business. Something about a proletariat.’ He sounded like he found it anything but interesting.
‘Protea,’ said Thea. She was almost certain that she saw Fletcher roll his eyes behind George.
‘Same thing,’ said George. Thea chose not to point out that it absolutely wasn’t.
‘I thought you were wondering whether the duchess might be able to… shed some light on the situation, Your Grace,’ said Fletcher.
‘I was?’ asked George.
Thea looked at George, and then at the butler.
Had any of this come from George, or was Fletcher trying to reinvigorate her enthusiasm?
She looked at him fondly. He understood more than anything her need for purpose, and how she struggled with the control of George and the absence of Martha.
Her heart swelled with affection for him.
‘You were, your Grace,’ said Fletcher. ‘You had consumed a little whisky, but you were very clear that you believed the duchess may use her experience and the facilities at Hawkdean House to aid in the queen’s endeavour.’
Thea smiled thankfully at him. However George felt about this, it was heartening to know that the staff understood her a little, at least. She chose to pursue the subject, as there seemed to be little risk and there may be advantages to be had.
‘Apparently Neville is having little success,’ she said. ‘The Protea is challenging to propagate and requires some particular attention to methods.’
George sat back in his chair. ‘I am sure you are pleased about that?’ he asked. That took her aback, she thought a dislike of Knatchbull was one thing they shared.
‘Pleased about what?’
‘That he’s struggling?’ She pursed her lips thoughtfully and a knowing smile grew on George’s lips. ‘You are such a snob.’
‘I am not,’ she asserted – used to the accusation but worrying that she might have overplayed this card already.
‘Just because he started out in business and is new money, you don’t like him,’ said George, dropping another lump of sugar into his black coffee.
Thea shot a glance at Fletcher. This wasn’t going the way either of them had hoped.
George must have taken far too much whisky last night and didn’t remember any of it.
‘I am not sure you like him any better,’ she said in a gentle tone which she hoped would remind him of their mutual feelings and wouldn’t anger him. Placation was the key now, when he was in this mood.
George sighed, as if she were a small child hanging on his trousers. Even Fletcher was more patient with Samantha. ‘You know we must keep Knatchbull happy. He is in parliament now.’
‘Of course.’ She tried not to sound too indignant, even though the details of politics were kept from her and she couldn’t know exactly what they were dealing with. ‘I know you dislike his new money, and you know that I dislike that he made his thousands from torture instruments.’
‘Instruments of empire and discipline,’ said George. Thea bit back a response, but George went on. ‘The masses that buy them can’t be wrong.’
‘The masses of slave owners in the West Indies?’ asked Thea.
‘Exactly.’ George took a bite of the pastry, entirely missing her point.
She knew this line would get her nowhere and only anger him, but she felt a little fire inside.
She took a breath to calm herself, reminding herself that either George had expressed a desire for her assistance, or Fletcher thought this was a good chance for her to make progress with his support for her growing. Either way she needed to placate him.
‘I could germinate those proteas, for the queen, if I had more seed and the right propagation conditions.’ Her heart pounded in her chest as she said it out loud.
George snorted and sat back in his chair, folding his arms. ‘If Knatchbull can’t do it, how do you imagine you would?
’ Her vision blurred at the edges with frustration, but she swallowed it down, as always.
This must have been Fletcher’s idea, and he must have made a mistake.
She glanced up at him and hated the pity and apology that she saw there.
Nevertheless, her pride wouldn’t quite let it drop.
‘It is difficult with the current–’
He cut her off. ‘You know my position. I built you glasshouses. At great expense.’
‘If we could only amend them a little–’
He interrupted again. ‘I am tired of this conversation. I understand the seeds of the protea are rare.’
‘And?’ she asked, too defiantly.
‘And,’ he said, as if explaining a concept to Samantha – not that he ever did. ‘They therefore should go to the most appropriate growers.’
She stared at him, angry, but not surprised. ‘You mean men?’
‘Of course,’ he said. He was still polite on the surface, even as he dismissed her.
‘It is lovely for you to have your little hobby, and I am happy to support your fun, but this is serious business and for the queen. How would it look if I procured the seeds for you, and you failed? Just like every other time?’
‘That’s all part of the–’
‘The process, I know,’ he said, standing and signalling that the conversation was at an end by folding his paper. He fixed her with what she assumed was meant to be a placatory smile. ‘But I am sure the queen only needs experts on that board. Maybe it’s time you learned to leave it to the men?’