Chapter 31 #2
‘Good grower, the duke,’ said Grimston. Thea saw Martha take a breath and then remove herself from the glasshouse, presumably before she said something she would regret.
She felt her own cheeks pink a little at the men’s dismissal, but it was nothing she didn’t expect.
Cecily looked at her feet, knowing she shouldn’t argue with her husband.
Thea heard Harriet tut from the back of the group.
‘I do believe you are mistaken, gentlemen,’ she raised her voice so they couldn’t help but hear her. ‘From what I hear the duke is supportive, of course, but the plant collection would be nothing without the duchess and Lady Foxmore.’
Grimston sneered. ‘Apparently the two of them are inseparable. But nothing you and your estranged husband wouldn’t know about, I am sure, Mrs Henry?’
Thea saw Harriet take a breath and jumped in before she could counter. Nobody needed those rumours circulating. ‘We were delighted to receive a visit from the king and queen last week,’ she said, trying to change the subject. ‘They were quite pleased with the sweet peas.’
‘I can’t deny I was a little put out at first when Crumpy suggested this place,’ said Knatchbull, ignoring Thea but taking up the topic.
He waggled his finger at Crumpacker whilst smiling, but nobody missed the passive aggression.
‘But if there is any plant collection I would take second place to, it would be the duke’s. ’
‘The duchess’s and Lady Foxmore’s, as Mrs Henry clearly noted,’ said Crumpacker, matter-of-factly.
‘I understand the duke is moving the hot house,’ said Knatchbull, ignoring him and addressing Herbert and Speckle. ‘As is the current custom after Mr Brown.’
‘Where to?’ asked Herbert, as Harriet stared at Thea, and Thea stared at Knatchbull, dumbly.
‘Somewhere to the east,’ said Knatchbull, gesturing. ‘He showed us the plans when we were out shooting. Has had a chap called Knowlton draw them up.’ Thea now glanced towards Harriet, and they shared a look of mutual concern. How had George been planning this without telling her?
‘Better for the smell,’ said Grimston.
‘I just hope his new setup enables us to maintain our special relationship,’ said Knatchbull. ‘I have had a number of beauties from him over the years.’
‘You must provide the duke with something very special, Mr Knatchbull,’ said Harriet, flicking a glance to Thea. Thea knew that her friend was as curious as her as to why George kept the objectionable tradesman so close.
‘I certainly do,’ he said, flashing her a fake smile that contained a lot of teeth.
‘The duke has said many times that he does not know how he would manage without our relationship.’ Thea looked to Harriet.
It didn’t look like he was interested in sharing, but what could it possibly be?
Was he bailing out debts? Keeping George in parliament despite his drinking? Was George in trouble?
‘I thought it was tea?’ said Crumpacker from the firewall.
Thea and Harriet looked at one another, and then back to Knatchbull. ‘Tea?’ they said in unison.
For a moment he looked abashed but then strove to spin the situation to his advantage. ‘There is a particular blend of tea which comes through the north of India that I have the almost exclusive rights to through my metal trade. The duke values it highly.’
‘You can get tea anywhere in London,’ said Harriet.
‘Not Kangra tea,’ said Knatchbull.
‘Kangra tea,’ said Thea, her thoughts flicking back to that terrible day in George’s study. ‘Miss Bellegarde drinks it. And his mother.’
Thea saw Harriet blink. ‘I see the duke is lucky to have contacts such as yourself,’ she said more smoothly than Thea would have managed. ‘What a valuable contribution you make to British politics.’
‘A symbiosis if you will,’ simpered Knatchbull, missing the barb. ‘It is the very type of reciprocity that politics is built upon.’
And Thea feared he was right.
‘You can’t be serious?’ asked Martha, aghast as Mrs Jenkins pinned her shimmering terracotta dress to her stomacher. ‘That’s been the thing all along? I thought it was something important?’
‘That is it,’ said Thea as Joan held out the dress frame. George had insisted on a wide gown, and she stepped into the hoops. ‘He is giving away everything we have, for tea for his mistress.’
Mrs Jenkins harumphed through the pins in her mouth. Mrs Phibbs shook her head as she tidied the tea things – she wouldn’t usually be here at dressing time but Thea suspected she didn’t want to miss the conversation.
‘Too much power,’ muttered Mrs Phibbs. ‘Goes to their heads.’
Martha furrowed her brow. ‘Surely that can’t be it? He didn’t intercept all those packages and letters, build you terrible glasshouses, and then give away all your best plants and growing secrets just for tea? And also…’
She trailed off as Thea caught her eye. They shouldn’t mention that they thought James’ death had been anything other than an accident in front of the staff, but having a footman forge letters before having him killed seemed extreme for tea.
‘I could believe anything of him,’ said Thea, ‘but it does seem excessive. That said, he would not have considered that the impact on me was relevant. The plants are not important to him and he doesn’t care for my happiness. To him the knowledge is only as much of a commodity as is the tea.’
‘And it chimes with the fact that he has decided to move the glasshouses without consulting anyone other than himself,’ said Martha as Mrs Jenkins fastened her skirts.
‘Part of his motive may have been to limit you all along, to protect his pride. He may not have known it. Men’s egos are fragile things in my experience, especially when they have more confidence than capability. ’
‘You mark my words,’ said Mrs Jenkins. ‘Money and rank without purpose is dangerous. He’s been told he’s special his entire life.
A wife with alternative but innocuous interests is manageable and sometimes helpful.
But once those interests start to give you royal or political connections, Your Grace, and to outdo him, well that is quite an issue for a weak man. ’
‘He knew you were talented,’ said Joan, ‘but he couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge it or understand how it could benefit him if he supported you. It is a sad thing.’
‘It must have been a difficult thing for his small brain to wrap itself around,’ said Mrs Jenkins.
Mrs Phibbs let out a little snort. ‘Too true. How long has he been planning the glasshouse move, Your Grace?’
‘Long enough to get the plans drawn up it seems,’ said Thea. ‘Months, I would say.’
Mrs Jenkins harumphed through the pins in her mouth and then muttered something that sounded like, ‘deranged.’
‘Proving to you that he can do what he likes,’ said Martha. ‘Now he hasn’t succeeded in keeping you down in any other way. His argument was never against your cultivation of plants. It was against the cultivation of your success and independence.’
‘I’d like to tell him what I thought of him,’ said Mrs Phibbs.
‘I have almost shared my thoughts with him numerous times,’ said Martha dryly.
‘You must all keep them to yourselves,’ said Thea, aiming her words at Martha. ‘You know what he will do if we upset him – you will be out of here in a second.’
‘You can come and live with me at Denbury,’ said Martha, and Thea knew she was only half joking.
‘And he would keep the children,’ said Thea.
Mrs Phibbs muttered something that Thea thought might have been ‘bastard,’ but she let it go.
Martha sighed. ‘And now a dinner with more of them to massage these continuing political relationships. What a wonderful evening.’
‘As long as George doesn’t drink too much, we should be alright,’ she said, biting at her lip. ‘Some of the relationships in this party are becoming increasingly frayed.’
‘Indeed,’ Martha agreed. ‘You say Knatchbull has already addressed his grievances with Crumpacker over the royal visit?’
Thea nodded. ‘Not that it will make much difference.’
‘And Harriet and Emma are back on speaking terms after the incident at Upper Plumbthorne?’
‘Yes, but it is always tense,’
‘Grimston seems to have found an ally in Doctor Herbert,’ said Martha. ‘I saw them mumbling to one another in the corridor.’
‘Noted,’ said Thea. ‘What a pair they are of grumpy men. I will prepare to be put in my place as a woman.’
‘But nobody has yet addressed the fact that Speckle has thrown away his entire family fortune on moral grounds by freeing a plantation of slaves, while that Knatchbull grows his own fortune by manufacturing the metalwork which aims to keep those slaves in check? That could be difficult conversational ground.’
‘Correct,’ said Thea. ‘As long as we avoid talking about society, politics or business tonight, we should be safe.’
‘And your mother-in-law is coming,’ said Martha.
‘I don’t think so, thank goodness,’ said Thea.
‘I mean, she is,’ said Martha, pointing out of the window. ‘I can see her carriage.’ Thea’s eyes followed where she pointed. This was just what she needed. George hadn’t bothered to tell her he had invited his mother.
‘It’s going to be a long night,’ she sighed.
‘I will be on my best behaviour,’ said Martha. Mrs Jenkins snorted through her pins.
‘It is simply a moral decision,’ said Speckle. ‘I had been considering it for some time, but once I got out there and saw the conditions, there really was no question in my mind.’
Thea breathed out slowly. They had made it to the game pie with polite conversation, but then Doctor Herbert had raised the subject of Speckle’s colonial business decision, the sly sparkle in his eyes betraying that he knew how controversial this would be.
Her eyes slid around the room, hoping that the dinner party would accept Speckle’s statement.
‘It’s hard when you’re new,’ said Knatchbull, pointing a finger at Speckle.
‘Thank you, Mr Knatchbull,’ said Speckle. ‘It certainly was difficult to see the conditions the workers were kept in.’