Chapter 5 #2
“For a few years. I went looking for adventure but I started life in America as a humble tout for a travelling quack. The English accent impressed the rubes—the local yokels. I’d stand up on the seat at the front of the wagon and give the spiel, and they’d be queuing up at the side to buy ‘Dr. Pangloss’s Potent Purple Pastilles, Patent Pending. ’”
“Pangloss. Voltaire?” she asked cautiously.
“‘All is for the best, in the best of all possible worlds.’ The chances of any of our marks having heard of Candide were extremely slim, but if they had, what could be better for their health than a little optimism?” Almost inaudibly he added, “It’s what keeps me going.”
Thinking it best to ignore this comment, Daisy said, “I hope the Potent Pastilles didn’t actually kill anyone.”
“Not in my time. They were made with ‘the best butter.’ Chicle, actually, the stuff they make chewing-gum from. Purple dye from beetroot and he wouldn’t tell me what else.
Useless, perhaps, but not deadly. We sold them in tins of twenty, to be taken one a day, no miracle cures to be expected till the entire course was finished. ”
Daisy laughed. “By which time you’d left town, to avoid being tarred and feathered.”
“Of course. We headed west, and by the time we reached cowboy country I’d saved enough money to buy a decent horse. As I wanted to see the country, I moved from ranch to ranch, from Montana down to Old Mexico.”
“Old Mexico?”
“As opposed to New Mexico, one of the United States.”
“Oh, yes. Alec—my husband—and I didn’t have time to go there.”
“You’ve been to America, Mrs. Fletcher?”
“Just a short visit, most of it spent in Washington and New York. But we flew across the country to Oregon and returned by train.”
“You flew! You had a very different view from mine, then, crawling along at horse-speed. That must have been interesting.”
“A lot of the scenery was beautiful from the air, but the aeroplane was so noisy and I was so cold, I wasn’t able to appreciate it properly at the time.
The view from the train was better, of course, but limited.
You spent several years in the West, I gather.
You must have loved the country to have stayed so long. ”
“I did, and do. I have a special fondness for New Mexico, which is where I met Ruby. She misses it. We always intended to go back some day for a visit, until this wretched illness overtook me. But we won’t talk of that.
Ruby was a school-marm, as they called it, in a one-horse town.
I was a nearly penniless cow-hand. So I took my grub-stake to Nevada, went prospecting, and struck silver. ”
“Right away?” Daisy asked in surprise.
He laughed. “Not quite. But soon enough to make some of the old-timers look green. It was a nice seam of ore.”
“What luck!”
“Yes, and if I’d worked it, I might have ended up richer, or I might have ended up dead.
I didn’t care to spend my time watching over my shoulder for claim-jumpers.
In any case, the life of a miner didn’t appeal, and Ruby was waiting—I hoped.
So I sold out, went back to New Mexico, and got married.
I was negotiating for some land when the news reached me, by what roundabout route I never did discover, that my father had died the previous year.
Add the fact that New Mexico was suffering a serious drought, and I decided to head for home. ”
Glancing at Mrs. Birtwhistle, Daisy wondered whether she had had any say in the decision to leave her home and her country. She caught Daisy’s eye and came over, looking anxious.
Daisy explained, “Mr. Birtwhistle’s been telling me about his career, or careers, rather, in America, and how much he loved your part of the country.”
“New Mexico is very beautiful. I miss it, especially when the winter rains set in here!” She laid a hand on her husband’s shoulder.
“But it just wasn’t the right time to try to get a start in ranching.
Even well-established people were in trouble because of the dreadful drought—not something you can imagine here in England.
Also, there was Humphrey’s family to be considered. ”
“He’d’ve done better to have stayed away.” The muttered comment coming unexpectedly from behind Daisy made her jump. “We were doing very well without.”
The dog, back in his spot on the hearth rug, creaked to his feet and moved stiffly to meet the speaker.
Birtwhistle’s eyes briefly flickered towards the newcomer, then turned up to his wife. Her gaze was fixed on the intruder in an inimical stare. Birtwhistle raised his hand to cover Ruby’s on his shoulder. She glanced down at him and nodded.
“Hello, Norman,” she said in a neutral voice. “Let me introduce you. Mrs. Fletcher, this is Humphrey’s brother, Norman.”
Norman wore a baggy, shaggy tweed suit and an air of disgruntlement that had carved permanent lines into his face.
Daisy added this to his sister Lorna’s general put-upon-ness and realised that the Prodigal’s return had not been welcomed by his siblings.
Thirty years later, they still resented it.
Did Humphrey now own Eyrie Farm, left to him by a father in a dynastic mood, or were the three forced uneasily to share?
More to the immediate point, did either alternative have any bearing on Sybil’s fears?
She had no chance to contemplate the question, as Lorna came in, looked round, and said sourly, “Oh, are you eating with us, Humphrey? We’ll need another place set.”
“Yes, I think I will, as long as Mrs. Fletcher will excuse my leaving the table early if it seems advisable.”
“Certainly,” Daisy said promptly.
“Are you sure you’re well enough, darling?” Mrs. Birtwhistle fussed.
“If I weren’t, I wouldn’t. Simon can carve—at least, I hope Simon can carve. I spent enough time trying to teach him.”
“There are more important things in life than cutting up meat neatly,” Simon retorted. “As a matter of fact, I’m thinking of becoming a vegetarian.”
“What?” Norman Birtwhistle burst out. “A fine thing that’ll be for a sheep farmer!”
“If you imagine I’m ever going to be a—”
“You can always keep sheep just for the wool, Si,” Myra pointed out. This soothed neither her cousin nor her uncle.
Lorna made herself heard again. “Dr. Knox, is Humphrey to eat with the rest of us?”
“Dammit, Lorna, I’m not a child!” her brother exploded. “I’ll decide for myself. I’ll dine with my guests.”
His sister departed with a sniff.
“I’ll set a place for you, Uncle Humphrey,” said Myra.
Walter Ilkton regarded her with an expression of doting approval. “There’s bound to be chairs that need slinging about. I’ll come and lend a hand.”
“Darling, too sweet of you!” They went out together.
Neil winked at Daisy. “Many hands make light work,” he observed lightly, and followed the pair.
“Sickening!” said Simon, scowling. “I don’t know what they all see in her, but I wish she’d flipping well make up what passes for her mind and marry one of them.”
“I hope she won’t choose your friend, Simon,” said his mother. “I’m sure he hasn’t a penny to his name. Humphrey, are you quite sure you’re well enough to join us? I know Mrs. Fletcher won’t—”
“Yes, Ruby, I’m quite sure. Mrs. Fletcher has already assured me that she won’t be offended if I’m obliged to retire after the roast. I hope you’re pleased, Knox. You’re always urging me not to overexert myself.”
The doctor shrugged. “It’s a good sign that you’re able to join the family, and I hope the company will stimulate your appetite, but one supper doesn’t make a summer.”
“And one swallow doesn’t make a supper,” Sybil put in.
“It’s presumptuous of me to bandy words with wordsmiths,” Knox said, smiling. “What do you think, Mrs. Fletcher? I gather you’re a writer, too. Do you object to being called a wordsmith?”
“Not at all. It has a nice, sensible, solid sound, like blacksmith.”
“Sensible! Solid!” Simon was outraged. “Is that what you aspire to?”
“Your work is more like goldsmithing, no doubt,” said Daisy peaceably. “Airy fantasies, delicate—”
“Psychological insights,” said Simon through his teeth. “Gritty truths.”
“More like a road-mender, then,” his father remarked dryly.
“I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” Simon retorted with a sulky pout.
“I’d better get your pills, Humphrey,” said Mrs. Birtwhistle, “the ones you take with meals, and put them by your place.”
“Thank you, my dear. Simon, I’ll have another pink gin at dinner. Take the bottles through, please. It doesn’t seem to be doing me any harm, Knox.”
“Perhaps not. But please continue to stay away from it when you’re not feeling so bright and breezy.”
“I’ll settle for the short term.” Watching Simon slouch out with a bottle of gin and one of bitters, he sighed. “‘How sharper than a serpent’s tooth…!’”
“Don’t you think he’s just trying to find his own feet, Mr. Birtwhistle?” said Daisy. “After all, you didn’t exactly follow in your father’s footsteps.”
He looked at her in some surprise. “That’s very true.”
“And he’s quite young yet, isn’t he?”
“Barely twenty-one. At his age, though, I’d been earning my own way for a couple of years.”
“Selling patent nostrums? Don’t tell me your parents approved!”
“Lord, no. I never told them. I rarely wrote after running off to America. You have children? A mixed blessing.”
“My twins aren’t old enough to get into real mischief yet. My stepdaughter is in her teens, but she’s a sweetheart.”
“I hope she stays that way.”
“They all go through stages, don’t they? With luck, the troublesome ones don’t last long.”
“Well, well, perhaps I need not give up on the boy yet. Shall we go through, Mrs. Fletcher? Surely Myra’s young men—though Ilkton’s not as youthful as most of her catches; perhaps she won’t chuck this one back?—surely they’ve finished moving chairs about by now.”
He levered himself to his feet with difficulty, and took Daisy’s arm, but he didn’t lean heavily on her for support.
As they went slowly through to the west wing, Lorna reappeared, to say sourly, “And about time, too, or everything will be stone cold.”