17 Flying
Cal retreated from the swirl of speculation in some haste.
After dropping Cora at the front door, where a gaggle of ladies with anxious faces swept her inside, he drove round to the stables, disrupting the huddle of grooms in loud discussion in the stable yard, arms flailing like windmills as they made their points.
They broke apart only long enough to take charge of the dog cart, before returning to furious argument.
The hut was a haven of tranquillity. With a pot of ale at his elbow, he settled to preparing his dinner, but he had not got beyond chopping a few pieces of meat for a stew when he heard someone lumbering about outside, then a loud rap on the door.
“It’s open!” he called out.
The door creaked open and the beefy head of Archie Buckley appeared in the gap. “Sorry to bother you, Cal. Got a minute?”
“Of course. Come in, and Andy, too. Andy, there’s ale in the barrel there.”
Archie Buckley and his sons were familiar figures at the Dog and Duck, and although Cal had not had much to do with them directly, he knew them, as he now knew most of the men of Woodbridge village.
“Ah, that’s a kind thought,” Archie said. “Thirsty work, all this questioning folk, and now here’s young Timmy gone running off. You heard, I take it?”
“Aye, I heard. Has he run off, or just gone into Brinchester for something?”
“No, he’s run, for they was all told to stay nearby ready to be questioned, and it weren’t nothing difficult, just ‘Have you taken any tea from the box?’ Everyone’s supposed to just say no, and there’s an end on it.
But the little idiot’s gone and run off and now I’ve to search everywhere and no choice but to haul him before the magistrate for thievery.
It’s a bad business and no mistake. I take it you’ve not seen him? ”
“No, and he’s not hiding here. Nowhere to hide, only the wood store outside.”
“We looked there,” Archie said gloomily.
“He’ll have gone back to his ma at Woodend,” Cal said.
“Aye, that’s the next place we’ve to look, and that’ll be an upset for the old lady, cos we’ll have to search from top to bottom.”
“She’ll curse us for sure,” Andy said gloomily. He was a well-grown young man of twenty-five or so, but still young enough to be superstitious.
“Nay, she’d not hurt a fly, that one, for all the shouting she does,” Archie said. “Still, no time fer it today, so you can stay home and mind the shop tomorrow if you like, and I’ll take a couple of the other lads. Good drop of ale, this, Cal.”
“Bill’s finest,” Cal said, and the conversation turned to village matters, Timmy Skinner temporarily set aside.
***
The following day saw the return of Richard and the rest of the party which had gone visiting.
The flurry of activity which followed meant that Cal saw little of Cora.
She had no leisure to call during the day, and their usual Thursday dinner was eclipsed by an evening engagement in Brinchester.
But each night, without fail, she would make her way from the orangery through the woods to the hut to spend the hours of darkness in his bed.
It couldn’t last. He knew that perfectly well. Sooner or later her evening adventures would be discovered or perhaps she would simply think better of it, and then it would all come to an end. Until then, he would savour every moment with her.
He was sitting at the battered old table inside the hut one afternoon, methodically chopping carrots for soup, the door left wide open for air, when the shape of Richard Merrington darkened the opening.
He looked around the inside of the hut, taking in the furnishings, the jaunty curtains at the window, the barrel of ale, the shelves of books, but saying nothing.
“Mr Merrington,” Cal said, rising politely to his feet. “A glass of wine?”
“This is not a social call,” Richard said coldly, stepping across the threshold. “I am sure you know what brings me here.”
“I can guess.”
“You seduced my mother.”
“Well, I’d say the boot’s on the other foot.”
“That is ridiculous! Do not imagine you can deflect the blame elsewhere, Garford. I hold you entirely responsible for this… this outrage.”
“Are you going to call me out?” Cal said easily. “You’d be safe enough. I’m useless with a pistol. Now, a fowling piece… I have some skill there, I think, but—”
“Are you jesting? As if I would do anything so absurd.”
“No, for I’m not a gentleman, am I?”
“Certainly not! Which makes it all the more remarkable that you have managed to seduce my mother into this outrageous behaviour. You do not deny it, then?”
“No, but you should talk to her about it before you start laying into me. You make it sound as if she has no will of her own and I somehow induced her to throw propriety out of the window.”
“She was a respectable widow,” Richard hissed. “I cannot know by what black art you inveigled her into this state of debauchery, but it must stop at once, do you hear me?”
“I hear you, Mr Merrington, but you really should talk to her about this, not me.”
“Certainly I shall do so, but if you plan to continue this wickedness, you ought to know that all my mother’s money comes through me.”
“I don’t want her money!” Cal cried, stung. “I accept from her only that which is freely offered, her company and her unstinting affection. I make no apology for that.”
Richard was so incensed by this insolence that he paced angrily about the room for a moment, before turning on Cal, eyes glittering. “If you think to get away with this unspeakable wickedness and entice my mother into some unequal marriage then —”
“She doesn’t want to marry, and nor do I.”
“That is even worse! You seduce her into sin and—”
“Mr Merrington, let this be clearly understood. I have never done anything to seduce or entice your mother. Whatever has happened between us has been entirely her own choice.”
“But you do nothing to prevent her from sin.”
“I do nothing to encourage it, either.” Which was not entirely true. He might not have seduced Cora, but he had willingly allowed her to seduce him, and been glad of it.
That brought another bout of pacing. When he spoke again, his tone was more moderate. “You could have kept yourself from sin, Garford. You could have set a proper example. You could have reminded her of her duty to God and her family.”
“She’s well aware of it,” Cal said. “How could she not be? She’s devoted her whole life to her family.
Can you blame her for seeking a little happiness for herself, for once?
If I’d pushed back against that, who knows what she might have done instead?
It seemed better to me to go along with it, and let it burn itself out harmlessly. ”
Richard stared at him. “Better? How could it possibly be better?”
“By keeping her behaviour out of public view,” Cal said firmly. “It can’t be kept entirely secret because the servants know, but they are loyal. I assume that all who love her will wish to protect her from harm, even the harm caused by her own folly.”
“That is precisely what I intend to do,” Richard said. “She must be protected from the scandal that will inevitably erupt when her wickedness is exposed.”
“And how will you do that? By making the most tremendous fuss and exposing it yourself? If you have any care for your mother, then let her be. Leave her to make her own mistakes. She’s being very discreet at present, so all you need to do is pretend nothing is happening.
Eventually she’ll realise that her behaviour isn’t conducive to her peace of mind and she’ll become once again the respectable widow that the world believes her to be, and no harm done. ”
“No harm done?” He shook his head, sighing.
“I suppose I must make allowances for your ignorance, Garford. You were not brought up to know how to behave in higher levels of society, and perhaps amongst your own class, this sort of… of wantonness is accepted. But it is not so in good society, you must take my word on that. In the more elevated levels of society in which my mother moves, a woman who falls into sin will be ostracised… cast out… designated a harlot. What is worse, her shame contaminates her whole family, especially the females. Her daughters and granddaughters will be tainted by her wickedness. My wife will be tainted. You must see that I cannot allow it. It is my duty to protect the females of the family from her, no matter what effort it takes. There must be no scandal attached to the future Duke of Brinshire, Garford. On this point there can be no argument.”
He swept from the hut, leaving Cal in despair. How on earth could Cora withstand the onslaught of her son on a mission of righteousness?
***
Cora had spent the day writing letters to various friends in Norwich and distant relations, telling them all the news of Richard’s visit and the continuing worry about Timmy Skinner, and nothing about the subject at the forefront of her mind.
As no one else called upon her services, she turned to Georgie Hammond, who was always grateful for an extra pair of hands to fold linens or dust or simply enjoy tea and cake while Georgie played with the baby.
It was therefore in Georgie’s attic apartment that Richard found her, late in the afternoon.
“There you are, Mother. I have been all over the house looking for you.”
“That is my fault. I forgot to mention to Froggett that I would be here. I am sorry you have been put to so much trouble.”
“It is of no consequence,” he said stiffly. “If Georgie can spare you now, I should like a word.”
“Of course, dear,” Cora said. “Thank you for the tea, Georgie. I shall see you at dinner.”
Richard silently led the way downstairs and into the Blue Parlour, shutting the door firmly.
Cora chose a seat and carefully arranged her skirts, then waited expectantly.
She knew what was coming, naturally. She recognised that expression on Richard’s face — it was all too familiar to her, presaging as it did a complaint of some sort.
Usually it was money that raised his wrath, but not this time.