Lord Augustus Read online

  All through the service, her eyes sought him out. It was fortunate that he was tall, so that she could catch a glimpse of his head between the waving bonnets of the congregation. It was fortunate, too, that she knew the words of the liturgy so well, for she was not attending in the least. A daring plan was forming in her mind, and she could think of nothing else. It was so forward of her that she could hardly conceive of acting in such a way, but for Ned she would do anything. Besides, she had no reputation left to lose.

  So when the congregation was dismissed, and the important people from the front pews made their way down the aisle, Gus included, she held her gaze on him so that if he looked her way at all, he must notice her. He saw her, she bobbed a curtsy and he made her a small bow, all that could be managed within the crowded confines of the church. But he looked so serious! That was not a good sign.

  Nevertheless, she hurried outside as quickly as she could, hoping he had not rushed away at the sight of her. There he was! Thank goodness, he was still there, loitering a little apart from the chattering crowds, head down. So sad, he looked, standing by himself in that way, a stranger in the town, just as she was, even after three years.

  “My lord.” She dipped a proper curtsy.

  “Mrs Walsh.” A respectful bow. “How are you? And Ned? He is well? No repercussions from his accident?”

  “No, he is perfectly well, but…” Oh, how difficult it was! She had not had time to rehearse to herself what she might say to him, and now her mind was empty.

  “May I escort you home?” He offered her his arm. “Then you may tell me all about him as we walk.”

  She stammered her thanks, and, blushing, took his arm. How kind he was! So gentlemanly. He made her feel like a lady again, although she could not say a word.

  They walked slowly down the church path, and she saw one or two people staring at them, wondering. Gus walked on past them, and they passed under the lych gate, across the road and through the gates to the castle grounds before he spoke.

  “You must think me very rude,” he began. “It is the height of bad manners to whisk you away from your friends in that way, and then not offer a word of conversation. It is my great weakness, that I can never think of the proper thing to say, although I realise I should say something — the weather, perhaps. One always talks about the weather.”

  She giggled. “There is no need to say anything, if you had rather not.”

  “Oh, I wish to. I very much wish to, for if we talk about the weather for a while, then you will be comfortable enough to tell me what is worrying you about Ned. But my head is empty of weather-related thoughts just now.”

  That made her laugh out loud. “You are very kind, my lord. It is only that the pleasure of walking about on a gentleman’s arm is not one that has come my way for some time. Perhaps… if we walk this way, there is a small arbour where we may sit for a while.”

  “An excellent idea, and you would be sheltered from this cold wind, too.”

  “Ah, now you have made a weather-related remark,” she said. “Well done.”

  “There is hope for me yet,” he said, smiling. “Perhaps next time we meet we may progress to the prospects of rain?”

  Next time we meet! Was there to be a next time? Her pulse raced again, and this time she did not try to suppress it. Why should she not enjoy his company for a while? He would be gone soon enough, after all.

  They sat in the arbour, and Lucy and John, who had been following them, walked on past. Lucy continued on, but John stopped a little further down the path, leaning against a tree, staring into the distance, watching over her. They took such good care of her, John, Maggie and Lucy.

  “Now, will you tell me about Ned?” he said.

  So she told him about the bad dreams, and how he woke calling for Gus, and nothing she did could comfort him. “He never knew his father, who died before he was born,” she said. “It would be good for him, I think, to get to know you, to understand what a gentleman is.”

  “Nothing would give me greater pleasure,” he said at once. “However, I shall not be here for long, only until the difficulties with the stud are resolved. Then, whatever the outcome, I shall be going back to London.”

  “I know,” she said easily. “At least he would have the memory of you.” She leaned forward, suddenly intense. “You are so good with him, as few adults are with children. Even the doctor is brusque with him, and Maggie sometimes… whereas you just treat him as a person.”

  “Which he is, of course,” he said, smiling, but she could not quite smile back. Ned was too serious a topic for the least degree of levity. He went on, “Adults I find difficult sometimes, for they are complicated and subtle, and I am neither. But children — children are just like horses.”

  “Like horses!”

  “Of course. One always knows where one stands with them. They both kick and scream and bite when angry, take every opportunity to run away, and are all docility when fed copious amounts of sugar.”

  That made her laugh, her gloved hands raised to cover her mouth.

  His smile died away as he looked at her thoughtfully, his face sympathetic. “You must be aware, Mrs Walsh, that the very best thing you could do for Ned is to take him into company, to mix with other children and see other families. That is how he would learn the ways of his class.”

  “I cannot,” she said firmly. “My life must be one of seclusion, Lord Augustus, and therefore Ned’s also. That is how it must be.”

  “I beg your pardon,” he said at once. “It is the height of impertinence for me to be offering you advice. You must be the best and only arbiter of how Ned should be raised.”

  Then she felt guilty for rejecting his advice so peremptorily. “If only I could do as you suggest! But there are reasons — good and sound reasons — why I must avoid society, for Ned’s sake. My life is dedicated to my son, my lord, and everything I do, however odd it may appear to those who do not know my circumstances, is for his benefit, now and in the future.”

  He nodded, his face serious. “Forgive me, it is not my concern. Let us talk about the weather instead.”

  That made her laugh again. For all that he was so serious sometimes, he was easy to talk to. “Tell me about your journey. Was your business concluded successfully?”

  “Yes and no. I did not find what I sought, but I found something quite unexpected instead, for I unearthed a natural son of my father’s. In this case, however, he is being raised as the legitimate heir to another man.”

  “Oh,” she said, diverted. “But how is that possible? Oh!”

  “I see that you have worked it out,” he said, turning to her with a gleam of amusement in his eyes. “An affair with the wife… but seemingly with the complicity of the husband, who would otherwise have had no heir at all.”

  “How… how complicated.”

  “It is now, for they were all going about their business quite happily, the son in complete ignorance, until I turned up with my nose an exact match for his. It is a wretched hindrance to cuckoldry, the Marford nose. There is no disguising one’s misbehaviour.”

  She giggled, and all the constraint between them was gone. No matter what was said between them, she realised with sudden joy, he would not fly into sudden anger, or sulk, or take offence. He was such a refreshingly straightforward man. She could have sat all day in the arbour with him.

  But then he said, “I came through Drifford on my way back to the castle. It interested me greatly, since it was your home for some years. It looks to be a fine, prosperous place.” He paused but there was nothing she wanted to say about Drifford. “That is a fine statue in the main square. ‘Mrs Charles Ballard, Patroness of Drifford’. She must be a very great lady, to have a statue raised in her honour.”

  He paused again, looking at her, and surely he must wonder why she made no response! It was absolutely necessary to exert herself. “She is the most important person in Drifford,” she said at length, in a low voice. “Mr Ballard owns the town, but Mr
s Ballard manages it.”

  “Ah, I see,” he said. Then, the moment she had dreaded. “You must have known them, I imagine? What sort of people are they?”

  Could she talk calmly about them? She must! “Mr Ballard is a kindly gentleman, although not often at home. He owns many businesses over the county and some in Cumberland, Westmoreland and Durham too. Mrs Ballard is… she is…”

  “You did not like her,” he said gently. “Was she unkind to you?”

  Her breath caught in her throat. Unkind! Oh, if only that were all. “No indeed, but she is… a strict taskmistress. She expects hard work and total loyalty from those she employs. In return, she has instituted many improvements for the town. She has raised a fine new church, for instance, and established a school and many new shops.”

  “I should like to see this paragon. Does she ever come to High Morton?”

  “Oh no, never! She never leaves Drifford, but she has friends here who tell her all that happens.” Friends? Spies, she would have called them.

  He fell into silence, and she could see him thinking it over, trying, perhaps, to read between the lines of her bland comments and find the real history behind her words. That would never do! She must turn his thoughts elsewhere at once. “Lord Augustus, will you come and see Ned?”

  “It would be my pleasure, Mrs Walsh.”

  Smiling, he rose and offered her his arm, and as she rested her hand on it, there was a rightness to it that brought her an unaccustomed degree of serenity. It was if they were meant to be together, and for a while she could forget Drifford and Mrs Ballard altogether.

  14: Arrivals

  Gus took the greatest delight in strolling through the park with Mrs Walsh on his arm. He had long since made a resolution that he must stay out of her life, but somehow that was all forgotten. He had thought, as he had walked to church that morning, that he would not approach her, but if they should happen to meet, then common courtesy would require an acknowledgement. A bow, perhaps. An exchange of greetings, at most. But she had come to him! And he could hardly refuse to speak to her, and then he was obliged, as a gentleman, to allow her to say what she wanted. His conscience was screaming that he should take the first opportunity to run away from her, but his heart was singing so loudly that he could not hear his conscience at all.

  So he tried very hard not to smile with joy as they walked sedately along the path towards the north lodge. It was curious, what she had told him of Drifford. There was such constraint in her manner that even he, poor as he was at understanding people, knew that there must have been some quarrel with this Mrs Ballard. But Mrs Walsh clearly did not wish to confide in him, and he must respect that. He had no wish to make her uncomfortable, and so would say nothing further to her about Drifford.

  When they emerged from the sheltering trees and were visible from the lodge, a small figure burst out from the house, the maid in pursuit.

  “Gus! Gus!” he shrieked at the top of his lungs. “You came back!”

  Gus had never been so popular before. His nephews and small cousins had such an array of nurses and doting parents and aunts and uncles, that one lone man was of no great significance. When they started to learn to ride, then Uncle Gus would become a great deal more interesting to them, but usually small children found him dreadfully dull. But here was one who thought he was quite wonderful, and Gus would not have been human if he did not respond with delight to such overtures.

  Releasing Mrs Walsh, he squatted and held out his arms, and the boy ran straight into them. Gus swept him up, and hugged him tightly. “Well, hello, young man! Are you quite recovered from your encounter with Jupiter?”

  And then, as was so often the way with small children, Ned became shy and refused to say a word, burying his face in Gus’s cravat. Gus laughed, and carried the boy into the house, where Mrs Walsh directed him to the drawing room.

  The first sight to meet his eyes was the piano, nestling against the wall as if it had always been there. It was closed today, being Sunday, but his heart somersaulted at the thought that one day soon he would hear her play it.

  “It fills that space on the wall admirably,” he said to her, with a smile.

  She blushed — how charmingly she coloured up! — and made some attempt to thank him again, which he waved aside.

  “Instruments are made to be played,” he said. “They are no use sitting in a shop for month after month. Now, young man, are you allowed your soldiers on a Sunday, or must we read the Bible?”

  “We could perhaps read the battle of Jericho?” Mrs Walsh said. “Ned could arrange his soldiers in a suitable manner.”

  So she read the Bible verses, while Ned and Gus, both sitting cross-legged on the floor, tried to re-enact the battle. In a corner, the older maid sat mending one of the child’s shirts as chaperon. Then there was another Bible story, which Gus read with the child sitting on his lap, eyes drooping. Before long he was asleep.

  “Poor little fellow! He must have been tired,” Gus said.

  “He has not slept properly since— for a while,” she said, and he guessed what she was about to say — ‘since you left’. Well, he was back now, and he would find some excuse to see the boy every day from now on. And the child’s mother, his heart whispered.

  “We have dinner at two today,” she said, whispering so as not to disturb Ned. “It would be the greatest pleasure to us if you would join us, Lord Augustus.”

  How much he wanted to! Yet an extra plate at table today might mean bread and dripping for them later in the week. “It is kind in you to offer, but your servants will only have cooked enough for your usual number.”

  “We have a haunch of beef large enough for twenty,” she said, smiling. “The castle keeps us well supplied with meat.”

  So Gus accepted the invitation, and sat down to dinner at the unfashionably early hour of two o’clock with Mrs Walsh, Ned, John, Maggie and Lucy, and enjoyed it a vast deal more than any of the duke’s elaborate meals. He stayed until four, and accounted the day one of the most enjoyable of his life. He went to his second dinner of the day humming, his head full of her, counting the hours until he could visit again.

  ~~~~~

  The next day brought Lady Rachel Medhurst, daughter of the Duke of Wedhampton, to the castle, accompanied by a long train of carriages bearing her luggage and many servants. She was quite open about her intention to marry the duke.

  “I owe it to the family name not to marry anyone of lesser rank,” she said haughtily, when she was shown into the drawing room before dinner. “Yet so few of our dukes are available at the moment. I nearly got Camberley once, but he slipped through my fingers and one of those devious Linford girls got him instead. But this time I am quite determined to succeed, and I do not mind your age or infirmity, you know. I am not so young myself, these days.” And she brayed with laughter.

  “You will hardly do for my purposes, in that case,” the duke said testily. “How old are you, madam?”

  “Not so old that I cannot give you an heir or two,” she said archly.

  “Why would I not choose a pretty little debutante, eh?” he said. “Seventeen or eighteen, with soft, smooth skin… not sure why I should choose you instead.”

  But she laughed, not at all discomfited. “An older, more experienced woman is a great deal more fun, Duke.” And she winked broadly.

  He grunted, but his eyes gleamed, and Gus saw the Frensham ladies exchange glances. They had not expected a rival!

  “Who is she?” Gus whispered to Emma. “How did she know about all this?”

  “She is a friend of Edith’s,” Emma whispered back. “No doubt she has written to all her set, and we shall have half the spinsters and widows in the country scampering up to Northumberland to simper at the duke. Although Rachel is not the simpering type, I grant you. Good heavens, Gus, this is turning into a veritable circus, and most unseemly in a man of his years. Look at him smirking at her.”

  “It has quite ruined your chances, I fancy, unless
you are prepared to elbow your way to the front of the queue.”

  “It is to be hoped I have a little more dignity than that!” she said acidly. “Ah, we are going into dinner at last. Can you contrive to sit with me, Gus? I am desperate for some sensible conversation.”

  “If the duke will allow it,” he said. “Goodness, look at him go! He is very sprightly today, and not the least sign of gout. You have worked a miracle, Emma.”

  “Oh, gout comes and goes all by itself. If my little attentions have helped, then I am glad of it, and I rather enjoy my half-hours with him each morning. He is great fun, you know, when he is not in pain, or being foolish over women. He has the sharpest sense of humour.” She sighed. “I shall miss him when I have to leave here.”

  But Gus was summoned to the head of the table again, and Emma was left to find a place further down, sitting silent and still, toying with her food.

  When Gus returned to his parlour, he found he had a visitor of his own. Daniel Merton, Carrbridge’s secretary, was listening politely to one of Edgerton’s lengthy tales. Gus introduced Merton to Willerton-Forbes who then diplomatically disappeared. Edgerton sat on, and would have lingered if Gus had not stood and held the door open for him.

  “You will forgive me, I am sure, Michael, but Merton is here to talk family business.”

  Edgerton smiled and bowed, and went off without demur.

  Merton sighed. “Thank you! He is entertaining company, but a little wearing after a while.”

  “The ladies would probably disagree with you. More brandy? Now then, tell me what brings you here.”