A Particular Circumstance (4 page)

Dinner being over, the weather had turned cool. Bertram stood with his back to the fire in the drawing-room and addressed his captive audience. He dismissed the strange discovery of the skeleton with a few words. ‘I trust Adam Brown has requested the Watch to remove the bones you found and has reported everything to the magistrate in King’s Lynn.’ Then he went straight on with no preamble, back to the topic nearest to his heart. ‘I am at a loss, ma’am, to guess why you can possibly wish to purchase Felbrook when other more suitable, modestly priced houses are well within your means.’

Jane Grayson was calm but firm and replied evenly, ‘I have 
always had that intention, brother-in-law, ever since dear Henry’s untimely death. As you know, we had to leave the vicarage in Lincoln to make way for the next incumbent. That was only right and proper, as you will agree. And I was pleased and grateful to Sir Benjamin Westbury to allow us a year’s lease on the Hall. We have been tolerably comfortable here and of course I have had the girls for company. Now a new chapter is about to begin and in two short weeks, we shall at last move into our own home, where you will always be welcome, dear Bertram.’

Bertram looked round him disparagingly. There were abundant signs littered over the table and even on the floor that the ladies had retired to the drawing-room to do their hemming and embroidery, but neither of the girls or their mama was in fact doing any sewing. They were giving Uncle Bertram their undivided attention.

Jane knew that Charlotte Grayson was angry and impatient with her self-important uncle and could barely restrain herself from giving him a set-down. She also knew that Kitty was still slightly nervous of him, but at Jane’s warning look, both had schooled themselves to express the utmost decorum and politeness towards him and to listen quietly without interrupting, even though he seemed determined to dominate the conversation.

Mrs Grayson was grateful that her daughters were being so forbearing and gracefully brought the proceedings to an end by rising from her chair and curtsying to him. ‘Dear Bertram, I am conscious of how concerned you are, but Henry never made huge inroads into his fortune, you know, even though he was always such a good-living man and never let anyone in need pass by without helping them. As for himself, his life was always restrained and modest and his material needs were few. My own parents left me a comfortable portion so I am well able to afford Felbrook Manor and to see that my own daughters have a decent dowry when the time comes.’

Bertram Grayson, torn between admiration for this
foresight
in providing for his nieces to make good marriages and his excessively disapproving mind, merely humphed at her and finally took his leave.

While Jane Grayson took up her neglected embroidery again, Charlotte and Kitty playfully reminisced about days gone by when Uncle Bertram used to perform conjuring tricks, or balanced a glass of water on his head while he danced for them.

‘Do you remember when Uncle Bertram bought us that Jack Russell puppy, Mama, and it nipped Grandmama’s ankle?’ Kitty said.

Jane smiled. ‘Yes, I do, my dear. But he was very young, barely twenty, and Papa found the little dog a good home with one of his parishioners.’

Charlotte recalled when she had been ten years old and Uncle Bertram had secretly given her an inordinate number of sweetmeats until she was horribly ill and had to be put to bed by Nanny Bull.

Jane sighed. ‘Yes, there were always tears before bedtime, when dear Bertram was here, but your uncle likes children and was always so jolly. It is such a pity that he has no little children of his own. He would make a wonderful papa to some lucky boys and girls.’

She sighed again and to break the mood, Charlotte decided that she and Kitty would perform some duets on the pianoforte, giggling a little and making their mother smile by their devastating imitations of the style and content of some of the young ladies of their acquaintance. ‘Miss Aurelia Casterton has graciously consented to perform an air by George Frideric Handel,’ Kitty announced and Charlotte gave a burlesque performance of Miss Casterton’s rendering of the piece, complete with flamboyant arm movements and
exaggerated
use of pedals until Jane Grayson was obliged to smile at their fun and high spirits. Then it was Kitty’s turn and she imitated the style of Ann West, who played and sang in a fashion so quiet it was almost inaudible.

‘From
The Marriage of Figaro
, Cherubino,’ she whispered and launched into ‘Ye who can measure, love’s loss or gain,’ in such an accurate rendering of Miss West’s small refined voice that Jane laughed out loud and immediately ordered them to go to bed.

‘I need a little peace and quiet after such an eventful day,’ she said. ‘And you two drive me to distraction with your jokes and japes. Come now, both of you, give your mama a kiss and get off to bed. It is late.’

Still giggling, they obeyed. They shared a bedroom on the second landing and were so tired themselves that they didn’t even spend time talking, but snuffed the candles promptly as soon as Phoebe had departed.

The next morning revealed a shining countryside, washed by further overnight rain, making leaves and blades of grass sparkle with jewelled raindrops. After a dull start, the weather was once more sunny and Charlotte pulled on some old half boots and set off for a walk with Phoebe in
attendance
. In single file, they went along a narrow muddy
footpath
which joined two more substantial tracks leading to the village church of St Paul.

A farmer led a herd of cows up the nearby cart track as they walked along enjoying the fine August weather. The sun was strong, even though the air had an almost autumnal coolness, and the animals’ breath was steamy as they plodded patiently along with the herdsman. Once they’d rounded the corner and were out of sight, it seemed to Charlotte that steam was now issuing from the hedgerow and billowing along on top of it. Lost in her own thoughts, she was startled when, as the lane seemed to sink lower between the hedges, it began to twist and turn and became very slippery. Many of the stones had washed loose and she began to walk more carefully, shading her eyes with her hand as she looked for the
well-known
landmarks of St Paul’s and the ancient signpost
pointing
to Felbrook village.

Suddenly, she heard the loud drumming of hoofs very close by and almost at once a huge black horse and rider leapt the hedge to her right and landed in front of her right across the foopath. Both Charlotte and Phoebe were thrown sideways and caught off balance by the suddenness of it all. Charlotte fell towards a bank where spindly twigs and yellowing wild flowers were still hidden among the coarse grass. She got up quickly and just in time prevented herself from straightening her bonnet and pushing back her curls with muddied gloves. Her pelisse and the bottom of her gown were equally
spattered
with the mud and stones thrown up by the rider’s horse and she felt damp and uncomfortable. She had stumbled on to one knee against the bank and had a patch of wet earth stuck to her dress. Phoebe fared somewhat better and as she appeared unhurt and only a little flustered, Charlotte turned her attention to the horseman.

He was tall and sat very straight on the huge black hunter and as she looked straight up at him, she could see his eyes were deep blue, fringed by coal-black lashes. He was looking down at her with the utmost disdain. Then he transferred both his whip and the reins to his left hand and for a moment Charlotte thought he was about to dismount and apologize for his churlish and inconsiderate behaviour, but she quickly recognized that this was very far from his mind. Although he was hatless, his riding outfit and countrified nankeen jacket were faultless and of the very best quality. As she continued to look up into his handsome face, she thought him even more attractive for not appearing embarrassed or apologetic. It was she who was embarrassed. She now quite forgot the state of her gloves and straightened her bonnet, leaving a smudge of mud on her face. She was furious at the way his blue eyes, under their black brows, were appraising her coldly and with no hint of polite apology.

The handsome, arrogant stare did not soften in the least as Charlotte burst out impulsively, ‘Sir, that was a very
foolhardy
action to leap in front of us like that. You could have 
been the cause of a serious accident.’

‘And it was a very foolhardy action on your own part, madam, for you and your companion to be meandering along slippery muddy lanes on a day like today. Any accident would have been entirely your own fault.’

He turned a powerful shoulder away from her and
gathered
the reins as though about to ride away. Charlotte was almost speechless with rage and chagrin. She was totally unused to such ungentlemanly behaviour. She was all the more angry because what he said had a grain of truth even though she was not about to acknowledge it. She frowned at him, taking in the glossy, fashionably cut black hair, the finely shaped lips and square, masculine chin. Her own chin came up and her fine grey eyes were like chips of granite as she glared up at him.

‘Furthermore,’ he continued relentlessly, ‘you and your companion are trespassing.’

‘Oh? And who says so, pray?’

‘I say so, madam. I am Hugo Westbury, Sir Benjamin’s estate manager. This land belongs to my great-uncle. You have no right to be here. Much as I regret your near accident, you should not be on Westbury land at all. I would count it a courtesy, therefore, if you and your companion would take yourselves off.’

‘T-t-t-ake yourselves…?’ Charlotte had to try and control herself now because she realized that she was almost
spluttering
with rage. ‘I will have you know, sir, we are leasing Westbury Hall from Sir Benjamin and are entitled to walk in the fresh air if we so wish, without seeking permission from … from such as yourself.’ She tried to infuse her tone with the righteous superiority of a ladylike legal tenant over a mere estate manager and failed signally in the attempt.

He merely scowled silently at this and then began to manoeuvre the huge stallion, in order to turn it along the path towards the nearest cart track. It was difficult. The horse was nervous and fidgety but he did it skilfully, in spite of the fact 
that Charlotte felt in danger of being flung into the bank once more and glowered at him all the while.

With a curt ‘Good day’, he trotted off along the footpath and out of sight, leaving Charlotte and Phoebe to turn back the way they had come and pick their way back to the Hall through the treacherous mud of the country footpath.

As soon as she arrived home and had washed and changed, Charlotte lost no time in seeking out her mama and pouring out her grievances against the insufferable Mr Hugo Westbury. ‘Mama, he was such a churlish boor. He may be Sir Benjamin’s heir and the manager of the estate, but he is no gentleman, Mama. He did not even bother to dismount to see how Phoebe and I did, after we were thrown almost into the ditch.’

Mrs Grayson gave a barely perceptible sigh. It was never any use reasoning with Charlotte when she was in this sort of angry mood. No gentleman, indeed. She guessed he would have had precious little chance for gentlemanly conduct in the face of Charlotte’s furious verbal onslaught. If only Henry were here. He had the magic touch of always charming their elder daughter out of her bad humour. With no more than a little smile and the gentlest of shared jokes, he could
transform
her temper into delighted laugher in no time at all. If only she herself had that gift, it would be so much more comfortable….

None of these thoughts showed on Mrs Grayson’s face and she didn’t allow herself the luxury of taking sides. She neither blamed nor defended Hugo Westbury’s actions, but said mildly, ‘A most inauspicious meeting, my love. Let us hope the young man improves on further acquaintance.’

Charlotte tossed her head impatiently. ‘I tell you, Mama, he is the most arrogant and ill-mannered man who ever lived.’

Her mother tutted sympathetically and seemed to give her full attention to her needlework. Charlotte was angry that her mama was not responding positively to the account of Mr Hugo Westbury’s inconsiderate and impossible behaviour 
and ground her teeth as her mama chose a fresh strand of embroidery silk and began to concentrate on threading her needle. Kitty came in at that moment and the whole story of Charlotte’s meeting and near accident with the churlish Mr Hugo Westbury was recounted once more.

Kitty was much more worthwhile as an audience for Charlotte’s tale and listened with pleasing attention and indignation to the story of his impossible behaviour. Finally, though, even Charlotte could find no more words to say in denigration of Mr Westbury and gradually the conversation turned to an invitation from Matthew’s Aunt Lavinia for them all to go over for dinner on Sunday next.

‘So kind of dear Lavinia,’ Jane Grayson said, relieved that the storm of Charlotte’s anger seemed to have blown itself out. Sometimes, she felt she was treading on eggshells when dealing with her daughter’s strong passions, so she was more animated in her praise of Lavinia than usual. ‘I shall look forward to it, my dears, and shall wear my new grey silk to church in the morning. It will be so enjoyable to talk over the finding of the skeleton in the cupboard later on and we shall find out what Sir Benjamin thinks about it.’

Kitty agreed. ‘And we shall find out from Matthew if Mr Brown has discovered anything new about the mystery.’ She sounded excited and even Charlotte was prepared to discuss what Sir Benjamin might think of a hidden skeleton in his family cupboard. No further mention was made of the
hateful
Hugo Westbury as the three of them began to gather up their sewing in preparation for luncheon.

As Kitty and Charlotte were about to leave the room, there was a respectful tap on the drawing-room door and Robert entered, carrying a small silver tray and bowing respectfully.