A Particular Circumstance (5 page)

‘If you please, ma’am,’ he said. ‘Mr Hugo Westbury presents his card, ma’am, and asks if you are at home, ma’am.’

The effect was electric. Charlotte went bright red and opened her mouth as though to speak. Kitty giggled and 
looked mischievously at her mama. Mrs Grayson put a
delicate
white hand up to her forehead as though she had a sudden headache and said faintly, ‘Oh dear. Yes … no … that is … I suppose…. Very well, Robert, show him up, if you please.’  

She cast a warning look at Charlotte and put aside her sewing and straightened her skirt as Robert announced, ‘Mr Hugo Westbury,’ and then withdrew, closing the door behind him.  

The insufferable Hugo Westbury stepped languidly into the drawing-room and bowed. He made no attempt to smile or look pleasant, but was merely civil as he acknowledged Mrs Grayson’s greeting and her polite curtsy.  

‘Mr Westbury.’  

‘Mrs Grayson. How do you do, ma’am?’  

Mrs Grayson studied him gravely and tried to equate Charlotte’s description of the careless and boorish horseman with this tall, good-looking young man who wore his
beautifully
tailored garments with exceptional elegance and whose handsome face and stylish hair seemed the epitome of the fashionable modern male.  

Kitty stared at him with unabashed youthful curiosity and only Charlotte remained coldly aloof, her colour high and a light of antagonism in her eyes.  

To Hugo Westbury, great-nephew and heir to the vast wealth of Sir Benjamin Westbury, Jane Grayson appeared as the archetypal vicar’s wife – ladylike, refined, well meaning, not the sort of woman who would cause trouble, seek confrontation or engage in any strong verbal exchange. He was sure he could get her to agree to an alteration of the removal date. Unlike her daughter, he thought, allowing his penetratingly blue eyes to flick disparagingly over Charlotte. He would have the utmost difficulty in getting
her
to agree to anything. And the other one was barely more than a
schoolroom
chit, he told himself.

Aloud, he said smoothly, ‘Forgive me for calling at an
unfashionable hour, ma’am. I do not wish to discommode you or intrude for more than a few minutes, but I merely seek to give notice of my great-uncle’s intentions. Firstly, ma’am, he will be visiting you himself in the next day or two and will keep you informed of the progress of the inquiry into the mysterious skeleton. More importantly, he has asked me, as the manager of his estate, to inform you that he intends to reside in this place and would deem it a courtesy on your part if you would vacate the premises forthwith.’

He made his long speech politely and in an even tone of voice, but it was obvious to his listeners that he meant every word of it.

Mrs Grayson was a truly Christian woman and her
inclination
was to help her neighbours and try to be accommodating. She knew that Sir Benjamin and his heir were staying at The Oak in King’s Lynn and realized that they must be longing to be settled in their own home, just as she was longing to be settled at Felbrook Manor. Her instinct, however, told her that if she attempted to speed up their departure unreasonably, then everything would be a mish-mash. The servants would be under strain, the packing would be done carelessly and belongings would either be damaged or go missing, leading to recrimination and counter-recrimination. In short, utter chaos. Westbury Hall would need to be cleaned thoroughly, especially now that the rubble had been cleared away from the fall of masonry. Moving out forthwith was absolutely impossible. She needed to be kind but firm with this forceful young man, just as she was with some of the older, more
difficult
boys at Sunday school.

She gave him a kindly smile and said slowly, ‘Well … I would like to fall in with Sir Benjamin’s wishes, sir. After all, he is the owner and has been separated from his beloved home for a number of years … but … but we shall need all the time we may garner in order to vacate the Hall efficiently and remove our effects to Felbrook. Indeed, Mr Westbury, we have only a fortnight of the lease still to run and I dare say 
even a fortnight may prove insufficient time to remove our things and to leave the place as I would wish.’  

He was impatient with her but said easily, ‘I understand your scruples, ma’am, and in the general way I would agree with you, but with the finding of the human remains and the enquiry it has occasioned, Sir Benjamin feels that this is an exceptional circumstance and that he needs to be
in situ
for any investigations of the skeleton. The panelling will need to be repaired and if you are willing to fall in with his wishes, he can easily summon up an army of domestics to tidy and clean the place. It would only take a day. You need not trouble
yourself
with such details and I am prepared to make you an excessivley generous offer to vacate the Hall quickly.’  

Jane Grayson stared at him. She was the widow of a vicar, not to be swayed by any mercenary interests and certainly not used to being bludgeoned into hasty or unpalatable decisions by a man young enough to be her son.  

‘On the contrary, Mr Westbury, I am prepared to buy an
extension
of the lease, in order to move house in a more comfortable and leisurely way.’  

‘Extend it, Mrs Grayson?’ His haughty tone was now quite chilling. ‘You mistake, ma’am. There can be no question of an extension to the lease. Sir Benjamin wishes me to urge you that owing to this particular circumstance, he needs to reclaim his property as soon as possible.’  

Her hands had begun to tremble and she clasped them tightly on her lap. ‘How soon?’ she demanded. ‘It is
impossible
. The lease has two more weeks to run.’  

He smiled. Jane noticed the smile and was sure that both her daughters had noticed it too. He had the most fascinating smile she had ever seen in a man. His blue eyes deepened and sparkled, and little lines radiated from the corners, making them look wickedly amused. His fine mouth curved
attractively
and he bowed slightly, saying, ‘Perhaps you might suggest a compromise, then, ma’am?’  

Jane Grayson thought quickly, but said calmly, ‘If Sir 
Benjamin does not think it too much of an imposition, sir, I suggest we compromise and vacate the Hall after one week instead of two and leave the cleaning of the place to Sir Benjamin’s servants. I want no recompense, though, for doing my neighbour a good turn. Perhaps Sir Benjamin might instead give a small donation towards the church?’

‘I am sure he would find your compromise most
acceptable
,’ Hugo Westbury said suavely. ‘I shall convey your
decision
to him, dear ma’am, and now that is settled I must take my leave of you. Good day, ladies.’

His eyes flickered over the two girls and expressed no interest in them whatsoever. He ignored Kitty but gave Charlotte a contemptuous glance and was shown out by Robert, leaving Mrs Grayson and her daughters to talk things over. Kitty was intrigued and openly admiring of their
handsome
new neighbour. Mrs Grayson was anxious that all should go well and that they would be able to honour the new agreement, but she was quietly satisfied that she had done her Christian duty and tried to help Sir Benjamin in his desire to take possession of his old home.

Charlotte was furious at what she saw as Mama’s
disloyalty
in co-operating with such an unpleasant and arrogant bully. He thinks he has won, she thought angrily. Her hands clenched and her lips compressed as she fought the desire to protest at the method he’d used to get his own way. Mama is too soft, she thought furiously. I certainly would not be seduced by his charm. But Mama had smiled back at him with undisguised pleasure and admiration. She was probably just relieved that he was not going to bully her and cause a scene. He
has
won, Charlotte thought mutinously.

‘How could you, Mama?’ she demanded. ‘You know how shamefully he treated Phoebe and me. You should have turned him away after his unpardonable behaviour.’

Jane Grayson was unabashed. She wasn’t socially naïve and was shrewd enough to know that Sir Benjamin and his great-nephew would be wishing to renew social connections 
in the neighbourhood once they were settled in. Of course, Charlotte had a faithful suitor in Matthew King, but there was also dear Kitty to consider. Perhaps through the Westburys, she would meet an eligible gentleman. Someone more to her liking than the curate who was paying her such particular attention.

‘But only consider, Charlotte,’ she said gently. ‘He is to be one of our neighbours. We may find a more pleasant side to his black-hearted nature, if we can but get to know him better. If we give him no chance to redeem himself, how will we ever find out that he has a pleasant side?’

As was Mama’s wont, she said it so seriously and with such a straight face that only those who knew her well could tell that she was funning. Charlotte scowled and said no more. 

Sunday dawned dull and misty, but with the promise of some fine sunshine to come, as Jane and her daughters walked to St Paul’s and took their places ready for the morning service.

Mrs Grayson was wearing her new lavender-grey silk. She was aware that half mourning was far more becoming to her fair colouring and greying hair than the deep black she had favoured until very recently and she was pleased with the matching bonnet, a modest confection in a slightly more modish style than the one she usually favoured, being of pale lilac straw with matching ruched satin ribbon on the inside of the brim. Once the year of full mourning was over, she’d instructed the girls to be free of their dark clothes and wear whatever was dignified and becoming, ‘For your dear papa would not feel it signified if you laid aside deep mourning,’ she said comfortably. ‘He always believed it is what is in the heart that matters and always said, “Thou my God see’st me”. He knew how much you loved him and funereal clothes make no difference to that affection.’

Charlotte and Kitty were pleased by this and with no
disrespect
to Papa’s memory, wore gowns which echoed the mellow colours of early autumn. Kitty had on a soft green velvet dress with matching pelisse and bonnet and Mrs Grayson was secretly amused to see that Charlotte had elected to wear her newest gown, which was of a rich russet colour and flattered her flawless complexion and glossy dark
hair to perfection. Charlotte’s bonnet was most deliciously fashionable, of fine cream straw with sweet little plumes, curling from the back of the crown. Of course, Charlotte would be seeing her beloved Matthew for dinner at Lavinia King’s house, later, Jane thought. Why shouldn’t she wear her best clothes? She took a hasty look around the church. Nearly all the pews were now occupied and still there was no sign of Mr Westbury and Sir Benjamin. She saw Matthew King arrive with his aunt and they nodded and bowed as they moved to their places. She knew that everyone was aware of the return of Sir Benjamin and Hugo Westbury and guessed that as soon as Mrs Palmer was told yesterday to empty the attics and to crate up all the glasses and china, except the full service that they used every day, that the lady would inform all those who would listen, that ‘Mrs, Grayson was being turned out of the Hall, uncommon speedy, like, and would wear everybody out by her hurried packing’.

There seemed to be an expectant hush in the church now. It couldn’t be anticipation of the parson’s arrival because he’d arrived ages ago and was in the vestry robing up his thin, lanky body with surplice and cassock. It was the curate, Andrew Preston, who was officiating today and he was a nervous young man with wispy blond hair and a bobbing Adam’s apple. The portly vicar, Hector Swift, was more popular with the village folk, but he was visiting his wife’s relations in Yorkshire and Andrew Preston was more than willing to stand in for him. A pleasant young man, Jane mused, and from a good family, he had excellent prospects for advancement and a good living if he were to marry. So far, she had deemed him as a possible partner for her younger girl and he seemed more than pleased at the prospect.

She drew back her speculative thoughts as the whispered conversations now suddenly ceased and she knew that this must be because Sir Benjamin and Mr Westbury had entered the church. She was determined not to turn her head but most of the congregation had done just that and were unashamedly 
craning to see the newcomers.

She observed Charlotte and Kitty very closely, ready to frown at them should they be so vulgar as to turn and stare, but conscious of their mama’s gaze, they remained
decorously
looking to the front.

Sir Benjamin was white-haired and frail-looking. his once tall, strong body bent with age, but he was dressed
immaculately
as became a gentleman and he used his silver-handled cane with singular grace as he walked slowly to his family pew. Charlotte averted her gaze, refusing to look at the hated Hugo and his great-uncle, but she was the only one who did. Everyone else stared at them with unabashed curiosity, one of the villagers even holding up her baby to look at them. There were few in the congregation who still remembered Sir Benjamin before he went to India but there were many more who remembered the lonely, dark-haired little boy who in the school holidays had been looked after at the Hall by tutors and servants. Jane Grayson observed the nodding plumes of some of the ambitious mamas in the neighbourhood and noticed with a smile that Augusta Casterton was poking her dumpy daughter, Aurelia, quite viciously, to remind her to sit up straight and try to look more graceful.

As the two Westbury men took their places, the Reverend Andrew Preston swished into the church and mounted the steps to the pulpit. His Adam’s apple bobbed furiously as he announced the first hymn.

He took as his text for the sermon, ‘Love thy neighbour as thyself’, which was only to be expected, Jane thought with some amusement.

Afterwards, as everyone trooped out of church, there was much very pointed lingering on the part of some of the local gentry, particularly the women. Mr Preston had welcomed the two returned parishioners very warmly and it seemed as though everyone wished to make themselves known to Sir Benjamin and Hugo and to make them equally welcome. Mrs Grayson knew that the two men would be inundated with
visits, cards and, of course, invitations to dine and she conceded to herself that it must be very inconvenient for them not to be in the family home. But it is now only five days, she thought, and then we shall have left Westbury Hall for ever. Matthew and his Aunt Lavinia came up to greet them and knowing he was going to see Charlotte and Kitty a little later, Matthew didn’t linger but set off with his aunt for Primrose Cottage.

In view of the bright sunshine, Charlotte decided she would take a detour to make the walk home a little longer, but neither Phoebe nor Kitty expressed any interest in this idea. Kitty was intent on writing to her friend in Norwich and Phoebe was to help Mrs Grayson with more packing of the books in the library. ‘I know it is the Sabbath,’ Jane said with a smile, ‘but I hope the Lord will forgive me my trespasses this once. After all, Papa’s books are mainly on godly themes, so perhaps our place in heaven will not be too much
endangered
. Do not be too late, Charlotte. Remember we are dining with Miss King and Matthew today.’

Charlotte walked slowly along the very path where she’d first met Hugo Westbury and her thoughts drifted towards him in spite of herself. It was incontrovertible that he was to be one of their neighbours. They were certain to meet socially when they had invitations from other families. She wondered whether his behaviour would be different in other
circumstances
and whether she would get over her instinctive antipathy towards him. She doubted it.

Where the path divided, she met one of the little girls from her Sunday school class, sitting forlornly on a fallen tree trunk and crying, the tears running down her pretty cheeks and clinging to her lashes.

‘Why, Lucy, dear. What is it? Whatever can be the matter, child? Come here and let me have a look at you.’

Regardless of the newness of her smart russet outfit, Charlotte sank down on the tree trunk at the side of the diminutive Lucy and put an arm round her, whereupon Lucy
began to weep more piteously than ever. Her golden curls were tousled and her old-fashioned sun bonnet was hanging down her back by its ribbons. Charlotte gently smoothed the curls away from the unhappy little forehead and spoke
soothingly
to her. ‘What is it, my little pretty? Has someone hurt you, child? Tell me what is wrong.’

The little girl gulped in an effort to control her sobs and said, ‘Please, miss, ’tis my dress. I reached for … for some blackberries yonder and tore it on the brambles. Oh, miss … I dursen’t’go . . home like this … it’d be awful trouble … Miss Grayson….’ And she gave another hiccuping sob.

‘Let me see,’ Charlotte said. She gently stood the little girl up and turned her round. ‘It is but a small tear, Lucy dear. In my reticule I have my little mending kit that ladies sometimes take to dances. Stand still and I will make it as good as new.’

Lucy had stopped crying and gave a shuddering sigh. ‘Oh, can you, miss? Can you truly mend it? Ma will be so mad wi’ me if she sees it like this.’

She stood patiently while Charlotte opened her reticule and took out the handy little needle case with a needle already threaded up. Very carefully, she mended the small tear in the faded print frock and said briskly, ‘There now, Lucy dear. It is done. No one can tell you have had it mended. Look at me now, my dear, and let us dry those pretty eyes.’

Lucy obediently turned towards her, smiling tremulously now, and that was exactly how Hugo Westbury saw them as he walked alone along the footpath, leading his horse and halting in the little clearing. The child was tearful, he noticed, and he scowled. He hoped the unpleasant Miss Grayson had not been unkind to her. If she had, he would have something to say about that. The little girl was the daughter of one of his estate workers. Then he noticed that the hateful Miss Grayson was actually wiping the child’s eyes very gently with a most insubstantial wisp of lace and he took out his own
immaculate
handkerchief and stepped forward.

‘Miss Grayson,’ he said suavely. ‘Good morning. Allow me 
to offer my handkerchief. I trust you have not been
mistreating
this little child and making her cry.’

Charlotte glared at him and said coldly, ‘Your handkerchief and your presence here are equally unwelcome, sir. Kindly leave us.’

She then proceeded to ignore him utterly. She was now tidying the guinea-gold curls on the pretty little head and replacing the faded old bonnet with a tenderness that was as warm as it was moving. Hugo Westbury caught his breath at the gentle loveliness of her expression as she drew the little girl to her and gave her a hug, saying, ‘There, my little darling. Now you are all done and I can see you home to your mama.’

Still Miss Grayson ignored him as she rose to her feet and smoothed out her skirts, ready to take the little girl’s hand.

Hugo Westbury was unused to being ignored, especially by women. He cleared his throat and said, ‘What is your name, little girl?’

‘Please sir, I be Lucy Baker,’ she said shyly.

‘Well, Lucy Baker, how would you like to ride home on this horse?’ he said. Charlotte frowned at him. What game was he playing, offering the child a ride like that?

‘Where do you live, Lucy?’

‘Over yon, sir, in the village, I do. And I would like a ride, so I would.’

‘You trust me to give you a ride home, then?’

‘Yes, sir, I does,’ she whispered shyly and to Charlotte’s utter amazement, she showed not the slightest nervousness as he lifted her on to the big black horse.

‘Are you sure you trust this strange man?’ she asked.

‘Yes, miss, cos he’s big like my pa and he has smiley eyes, so he has.’

Hugo Westbury gave Charlotte a sideways glance of
undisguised
triumph. ‘Hold on tightly,’ he said to Lucy and placed her little hands on the arched front of the saddle and so they set off very sedately, Hugo leading the horse and with 
Charlotte obliged to walk on the other side, silently fuming at his high-handedness. She would have enjoyed the walk had it not been for the nagging irritation of having Hugo Westbury’s presence imposed on her and was determined not to speak to him. She was acutely aware that he glanced at her frequently but addressed his remarks only to Lucy, who was not so much in awe of the fine horse or too tense with the delight of her ride that she couldn’t respond. By his gentle conversation and open remarks, he was able to coax the little girl into giving him a lot of information about her family and their house and their dog and even Lucy’s Sunday school teacher.

‘So, you go to Sunday school, Lucy?’ he enquired. ‘And who is your teacher?’

‘Why, it be Miss Grayson, sir,’ she said artlessly.

‘And is she very strict with you?’

‘Oh no, sir. She’m kind, she is, and I’m learning to read, I am. She’m teaching me my letters, sir.’ The little girl spoke innocently and turned to smile at Charlotte as she answered him.

It was now Charlotte’s turn to glance triumphantly
sideways
and this time he made a remark directly to her, saying that the child lived in one of the cottages which he and Sir Benjamin planned to re-roof before the winter set in.

‘And of course, Sir Benjamin and I are desirous of
improving
Westbury Hall, once it is vacated. Some of the carpets and curtains desperately need replacing to make the place more comfortable.’

Charlotte met his mocking, blue-eyed gaze unflinchingly. ‘We have been quite comfortable living at the Hall,’ she informed him with the utmost conviction. She could tell that he was not pleased with her answer but went on stubbornly, ‘However much you desire the refurbishment of Westbury Hall, sir, I still think it reprehensible of you to turn out a widow and her family at such short notice.’

His lips tightened into a straight line and his blue eyes lost
their mocking smile. ‘Sir Benjamin is now in quite frail health,’ he said curtly. ‘And then there is the added
complication
of the unfortunate discovery of that skeleton.’ He spoke impatiently as though he wished her to be silent, but Charlotte had no intention of considering his wishes.

‘It has put an added strain on my mama,’ she protested hotly. ‘She can barely manage to accomplish all the packing in time, and the servants are finding everything difficult.’

The more heated Charlotte became with her anger, the more coldly furious Hugo Westbury became and his tone was icily civil as he said, ‘But I obtained your mother’s agreement to vacate the premises a week early. Your mama was
agreeable
to the change.’

‘Mama felt unable to oppose your proposition, sir. She felt powerless to stand up to someone so … so … insufferably overbearing as yourself. I would never have agreed to such an arrangement had I been Mama—?’