Chapter Nineteen #4
Giles brought back news as it was told to him.
Lord Bexley, the local magistrate, had told him confidentially that Shacklock’s death was being put down as an accident to save the family shame, but there didn’t seem much doubt that it was deliberate.
He’d been found in one of the outlying barns.
‘Wedged the gun stock against a straw bale and the muzzle under his chin. Made quite a mess of himself.’ They were putting it about that he had gone there to shoot rats and must have stumbled over something in the dark.
‘Between you and me,’ Bexley had said to Giles, ‘the last thing the neighbourhood wants is a scandal. Shacklock wasn’t much respected and that wife of his – well, I won’t speak ill of a lady, but the eldest boy is sound and one wouldn’t want to jeopardise his career from the beginning.
And in fairness, no-one can say for certain it wasn’t an accident.
I was prepared to have a discreet word with Fothergill – the coroner, you know – but he came to the same conclusion on his own, so that’s the end of the matter. ’
Representing the family, Giles attended the funeral with Uncle Sebastian, who was back from Henley.
It was a very grand affair, as the funeral of an earl on his own estate should be, with four black horses, plumed and caparisoned, drawing the hearse, dozens of mourners’ carriages behind, and estate workers and villagers lining the way.
The church of St Michael and All Angels was filled with hothouse flowers – Ashridge Park famously had half an acre of greenhouses, much of it heated, but even so cartloads must have been sent down from London.
The widow, Giles reported, was a sight in her own right, in a black velvet gown sewn all over with jet beads and spars, and an enormous black hat with plumes and crows’ wings and a black veil that came almost down to her waist. At the graveside she threw a hothouse lily down onto the coffin, and then collapsed artistically into her eldest stepson Elliot’s arms.
Richard was out of bed and in the library with Giles a few days later when that same Elliot, the new Lord Shacklock, paid a visit.
He was tall, like his father, but with more harmonious features, presumably inherited from his late mother, which made the famous beak of a nose look noble rather than threatening.
Coming out from his father’s shadow, he proved to have pleasant manners.
‘I’m afraid there was bad blood between our family and yours in my father’s time, and I’m sorry for it. I want you to know that I’d like this to be the beginning of a new era. As neighbours in the same interest, we ought to be on good terms, and I see no reason why we can’t be.’
‘I honour your frankness,’ Giles said, ‘And I’d like nothing better.’
The young man gave an uncertain smile. ‘I’ve not been allowed to do a great deal about the estate. My father liked to decide everything himself, so I’m sure I’ll make mistakes.’
‘If there’s anything I can do to help, I am at your service,’ Giles said. ‘I’ve had to learn as I went along, so I know how you feel. My father died suddenly and I’d never had anything to do with the estate until then. I may not be the best mentor for you, but anything I do know you’re welcome to.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ he said. ‘I feel sure co-operation is the way forward. And on that subject, I would like to talk to you at some point about joining your milk scheme. My father, well, he blew hot and cold on it, according to the circumstances of the moment.’
‘We’d be delighted to have you with us. Your herd is very fine. But it’s my brother who’s really in charge of that,’ Giles said, with a gesture towards Richard.
Richard, who had been trying for years to get the Shacklock herd to join, could only think of one serious possible drawback. But Elliot went straight to the heart of it.
‘The herd nominally belongs to my stepmother, but she hasn’t shown much interest in it in years, and she’s agreed to hand it over to me in return for…
certain considerations. I should tell you,’ he added, before Richard could speak, ‘that she’s retiring to London, buying a house there.
She doesn’t mean to be much at Ashridge Park in the future.
She never really liked living in the country. Town suits her better.’
I’d be willing to wager on that, Richard thought.
A beautiful young – or youngish – widow with an ample jointure could lead a comfortable and amusing life in the capital, and it probably wouldn’t be long before she found herself a new husband, one better suited to her than that surly old curmudgeon, twenty-two years her senior.
The conversation turned to less prickly matters. Elliot mentioned that he was selling his father’s hunters, as he had his own, and wondered if Giles or Richard knew of anyone looking to expand their stables.
‘As a matter of fact,’ Giles said, ‘my uncle Sebastian is looking for a hunter – he’s too heavy to borrow mine.’
‘Perhaps you’d like to come over and have a look at Viceroy and Hermes. Warlock is rather old now, I will probably pension him off, but the other two are eight and nine years old, in their prime. My stepmother will probably want to sell her hunters too.’
Sebastian had been thinking about getting a horse for Dory, so they had plenty to talk about.