CHAPTER XX #2
There were more beautiful country seats, and certainly grander ones, but Arthur had never known one which looked as if it belonged in its surroundings more than Belcourt.
Pleasantly situated on the side of a hill, the estate was afforded beautiful prospects; with thirty-four acres of arable, pasture and woodlands sweeping up one side of the valley, and the deer park snaking up the other.
Nestled in and amongst it all was the house itself, constructed a century earlier in a neo-Palladian style; an earlier Lord Allerton’s preference for verdancy had resulted in climbers cascading down from one side and ivy climbing up the other.
The overall impression – as Hetty could be counted upon to say at least twice each summer – was as if the house had itself grown out of the ground.
The house being mostly exempt from the flights of fancy that had Berkeley Square redecorated with such awful regularity, the only evidence of the extravagance that had caused the Allertons their current predicament was the circular Roman Doric temple that Lady Allerton had had installed during her brief but fierce Classical era.
There was also a domed pigeon house – which had never, to Arthur’s knowledge, attracted a single bird, but currently housed a family of impertinent squirrels – and a greenhouse boasting a variety of curious exotics, to which Timothy headed just as soon as they had drawn up, leaving Arthur to enter the house alone.
When the family was in residence, upwards of thirty servants were employed; but with the Allertons in London, there was only a groom, a stable boy, two housemaids, and Mr and Mrs Hemsley – a married couple who were as firm a fixture in Arthur’s childhood as his own parents, so much so that when Mr Hemsley came out to greet him, Arthur bounded forward with such enthusiasm that Hemsley wondered, for one alarming moment, if his lordship was about to pull him into an embrace.
Arthur mastered himself just in time to wring his hand, instead.
Finally, he was home – properly, home.
‘Good to see you, my lord. Of course’ – and here a light air of reprimand entered his tone – ‘had we had more notice of his lordship’s intentions, we might have prepared the house more. I am afraid you will find a number of the saloons in holland covers.’
‘I shall avert my eyes,’ Arthur promised. ‘I have business with Mr Holland, but I did not warn him of my arrival – could you send a boy round to inform him?’
Mr Holland did not tarry, and it was not many more minutes before he and Arthur were walking the estate together, an exercise that encompassed the entirety of the rest of the day, as they made plans for under-draining and embanking the eastern farmlands, building a new road through the western part of the estate, and a whole succession of other repairs now made possible by the generous offer of sale Arthur had received for the deer park.
This was a bitter loss for Arthur, whatever Hetty thought, and while he in no way regretted a decision that would ensure Belcourt’s survival, there was still the bitter tang of regret in his mouth whenever his gaze strayed in that direction.
It was not only the profound unease of knowing that soon, such land as had belonged to Allertons for generations would be lost, but also, more tangibly, there was the fact that so many of his favourite memories had taken place in that deer park.
He and Hetty, riding hell-for-leather together on warm summer mornings, or—
Lord. His thoughts seemed to be travelling in Hetty’s direction every second moment.
When he looked at the great oak tree on the front lawn, his first instinct was to recollect the time she had fallen from it.
When Timothy – over dinner that evening – asked his opinion of a posy of blue flowers, he recollected they were the exact shade of blue of her eyes, which had looked at him with an anger he had never seen before.
This was the first time, in his memory, that they had ever been so greatly at odds with each other, and Arthur still could not fully understand how it had so thoroughly escalated.
‘Well?’ Timothy demanded, proffering the buds again. ‘Do you think it will suffice?’
It was just the two of them in the dining room. Mrs Hemsley, having apologised profusely for the meagre offerings that night, had still managed to produce a hearty meal of fillets of salmon in a caper sauce, a blanquette of fowl and a raised pie.
‘Marvellous,’ Arthur said, with only a fleeting glance at the flowers.
Timothy eyed him uncertainly. ‘But do you think they will make an impression upon Mademoiselle de Nicolet?’ he pressed.
Arthur sighed. ‘I cannot be certain of it. Do you wish them to?’
‘Of course I do!’ Timothy said indignantly. ‘That is the whole point – were you not listening earlier? Recollect—’
‘I recollect,’ Arthur assured him hurriedly, wishing to forestall a reprise of the hours-long tale. ‘But what I mean is – do you wish to marry this lady, Timothy?’
Timothy almost choked on his mouthful of pie. ‘Marry her?’ He sounded thunderstruck. ‘Why would you say such a thing?’
‘The way you keep dancing attendance upon her certainly gives that impression,’ Arthur said. ‘Onlookers might expect you to make an offer soon – and, for that matter, so too might Mademoiselle de Nicolet!’
This had not occurred to Timothy. ‘She has the Duke waiting on her,’ he protested rather weakly. ‘Surely she would not settle for me.’
‘You are not without your charms. I should not rank you so low – and, besides, if the gossips are to be believed, I do not think Sussex is faring too well in the race.’
Timothy looked distinctly unnerved. ‘Well … there’ll be the Jersey ball tomorrow night – a good chance for the fellow to sweep her off her feet in my absence. Romantic setting, that’s the ticket!’
Arthur laughed. ‘Or failing the Duke, perhaps Devereux will take her off your hands.’
Timothy agreed that this was also a possibility. ‘Though after this masquerade nonsense, I was hoping he would be so agreeable as to keep Trixie’s mind off the Captain.’
Arthur, raising his glass to his lips, stilled. ‘What masquerade business?’
Timothy caught himself up guiltily. ‘Did Hetty not tell you?’
Whatever good mood Arthur had recovered vanished in a trice, and he placed his glance firmly down. ‘She did not. You, however, will do so immediately.’