Chapter 21 #2
No reason, thought Thea. They all wished to be the first to germinate that seed, and Thea was impressed at how much effort Frankie was applying to it.
She turned over a paper on the table to look at some marks scrawled on the back. ‘Anything we can take to Knatchbull?’ Thea knew that Martha understood the game.
‘Plenty,’ said Martha. ‘I plan to veritably shower him with the useless and mundane.’ She looked up from her lens. ‘Through George, of course.’
‘He will appreciate it,’ said Thea. ‘Or, at least, I will appreciate it as it keeps you here and him happy. Well, happier,’ she qualified. She felt Martha’s eyes search her face.
‘I’m sorry it’s so awful,’ said Martha gently. ‘You were right about the drinking – he could barely stand last night when he left the drawing room.’
‘It’s fine,’ said Thea, waving away the concern as if the anxiety didn’t eat her up every day.
‘As long as we keep him happy.’ She didn’t want Martha to know that she was becoming ever more wary of her husband as his behaviour became more erratic.
This had been her decision, and she was determined not to make it Martha’s problem.
‘Speaking of men and what makes them happy,’ she said, trying to deflect.
‘How was Sanders when he worked for you? With the ladies on your staff, I mean.’
One of Martha’s brows raised. ‘No trouble at all as far as I’m aware. Has he been making a nuisance of himself?’
Thea shrugged. ‘I’m not sure yet. Only Frankie mentioned that he and Annie were a bit soft on one another and that she’s recently been ill in the mornings. Not that Annie let me know, obviously.’
Martha still looked shocked. ‘I would never have thought it of him. And definitely not of her before marriage.’
Thea’s mind slipped back to the night before, when Martha had done things to her that she was certain would make Sanders or Annie blush right out of their boots. Martha must have caught her look, because a wicked smile slipped onto her face.
‘Fair point,’ she said, without either of them exchanging a word.
Thea glanced around and then leaned forward and slid a hand to Martha’s knee under the table, then pulled away quickly when she remembered Mr Fenwick and Mr Crumpacker. She couldn’t afford to forget herself.
‘I wouldn’t worry,’ said Martha, clearly understanding.
‘Oh, but we must,’ said Thea sadly.
Martha nodded towards the tutor and the botanist. ‘Look at them. I don’t think we’re the main thing on their mind.’
Thea turned her head. At the table at the other end of the room Mr Crumpacker turned another page of the parchment.
Mr Fenwick exclaimed something in a voice entirely unlike any she had ever heard come out of his burly frame and then he laughed – almost a giggle, she thought – and put a hand on Crumpacker’s arm.
Crumpacker looked at it, stared for a few seconds and then looked straight at Fenwick, a huge smile on his face.
‘Nobody is allowed to touch Algie,’ said Martha. ‘Apart from Mr Fenwick, it seems.’ She looked as pleased for them as Thea felt.
Thea took a left turn down the wide, marble corridor to George’s study in the east wing.
Although ‘study’ was a strong word for it – George ran a little of the estate business from there but mostly, she suspected, he sat and drank brandy or enjoyed Miss Bellegarde over the writing desk.
Busts of Crowes past stared at her as she approached – she never lingered in this part of the house, it felt too uncomfortable.
Hesitating outside the door she listened – not wanting to interrupt if today’s activity wasn’t brandy.
She heard nothing but Musket’s low growl by her feet, so she knocked.
No answer. Should she go in? She almost left, and then thought about Fletcher’s advice – if George’s intended point was uncomfortable, she would rather avoid it coming out at dinner.
So she knocked again and entered. Musket hung back – presumably remembering being kicked in this room at some point previously.
George lay on the chaise by the window, one leg up and one flopped on the floor, mouth open and snoring. Sighing, she turned around. She would have to come back when he was awake. But then she heard a snort from behind her. Swallowing, she tried to close the door without making a noise.
‘Who is it?’ barked George, sitting up. She wondered whether to stay, but he was never in the best of moods when he awoke, according to the staff. She slipped down the corridor as quietly as she could but heard a shout from behind.
‘Thea?’ She froze and her shoulders dropped. He had seen her.
‘Sorry to disturb,’ she said, only half turning. ‘I’ll come back later.’
‘You will come now,’ he asserted, and disappeared back into the room. Sighing, she followed him.
‘I understand you have a note from Mr Knatchbull?’ she asked, as jovially as she could muster. ‘Fletcher indicated you may wish to discuss it.’ George sat behind his table and put his feet on it, but he did not gesture for her to sit down.
‘I have,’ he said, rubbing his eyes with the back of a hand. ‘We shall be there in under two months which is why this is extremely inconvenient.’ George threw the letter down on the table. Thea felt a wave of cold fear slide through her.
‘What does he say?’ she asked, keeping her voice as steady as possible and making a quick glance back to check the exit.
‘He says you sent plants to the palace. Milkyweed or something?’
‘I did,’ Thea said. ‘I thought the queen would be pleased.’
‘Indeed she was,’ George said quietly. ‘But I am not and neither is Knatchbull. You know I don’t wish for you to bother important people with your hobby gardening.’
Thea seethed inside, but didn’t dare show it. ‘I thought you would be pleased,’ she said. For better relations with the palace?
‘If you wish to pursue those connections it must be through me,’ said George, ‘as the head of the household.’
‘I see,’ said Thea, not knowing how else to react and keep herself safe.
‘It angered Knatchbull,’ went on George, scratching his fingers through his hair which was currently un-bewigged. ‘He sees it as rivalry and you have caused this upset. Now I will need to work hard to fix it.’ He pressed a fist into the table to leave her in no doubt about how angry he was.
Thea swallowed, hoping this didn’t end up in a temper. ‘I apologise,’ she said, placating. ‘If ever the opportunity comes around again, I shall engage your counsel as you suggest.’ She hated it. But it was necessary.
‘You will,’ he said, glaring at her. ‘And now I have heard from Swadling that Knatchbull has been saying to Fitzroy that I have been seen fraternising with Grenville.’ Thea’s brain tracked the political path.
She didn’t hold a great deal of interest in politics but knew that Grenville was in opposition.
‘Fitzroy is still deputising for Pitt?’ she asked, hoping the thought of the Prime Minister would deflect him. It didn’t, and the look he gave her was darker than any she had seen in him before.
‘Yes, Fitzroy is deputising for Pitt,’ he said with a menace in his voice.
‘But the point is that I cannot be undermined by Knatchbull. We must keep him on our side and cannot upset him. Goodness knows how he has the ear of Fitzroy, but it is likely he will become minister, and we must play the game.’
Maybe that was it, thought Thea. That George did actually have some political ambition and was worried Knatchbull would scupper it if he didn’t keep him on side. She felt a strange little relief at the thought of her husband doing something useful, for once.
‘Lady Foxmore has some excellent specimens for Mr Knatchbull,’ said Thea, glad she had thought to call into the library on the way here. ‘I am sure he will be delighted.’
George raised his chin. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘And you will behave yourself at the shooting party.’
‘I will… I am sorry, I will what?’ she asked, trying not to sound too defiant.
He levelled her with a stare and sighed.
‘I know we had an agreement. You are free to fill your rooms with tat and spend as much as you like on the garden – to fraternise with your little friends and even educate my daughters when you think I don’t notice.
All I ask, is that you do your duty as my wife in public and do not endanger my political relationships.
’ He stared at her, unwavering until she had to finally take a breath and look away. ‘Is that too much to ask?’ he said.
She shook her head, not trusting her voice to remain steady.
‘You may go,’ he said, and motioned for her to leave.