Heir to Rowanlea (12 page)

“I’ll ring when you’re wanted, Rivers,” he said abruptly, and watched the butler and footmen as they left the room.

Lady Norville had been too surprised to object, but she turned towards Mr Norville with a little frown of annoyance as the door closed.

“Really, Henry,” she exclaimed. “Was that necessary?”

“Aye, Claudine, since your son did not come to speak with me as I requested him to earlier. I must and will have speech with him, in public if he does not condescend to meet me in private, and hope that if you and your brother are here too you will have some influence on him!”

“I sent word I was busy,” Claude said haughtily. “I am not prepared to be available just when you wish it.”

“Busy! Pah!”

“I know of no right by which you order me to obey your instructions as if I were a child, Uncle Henry!”

“Nonetheless you might have paid attention to my request! What do you mean by it, hey?”

“Henry, have you gone mad?” Lady Norville demanded. “Why in the world are you behaving so towards Claude?”

“Methinks your precious son has gone mad, Madame, to be dissipating his inheritance so soon. Has he consulted you over his plans? Does he care naught for his family?”

“Nonsense!” Claude said, flushing slightly.

“It is not nonsense, and well you know it, or you’d not have done your damnedest to avoid me all day.”

“I have been busy, as I told you,” Claude repeated angrily. “And I’d like to know how you came by the knowledge of what I mean to do! If that confounded man Glossop has been blabbing to you, when I am now his employer, then he’s not fit to be trusted with my affairs, and so I shall tell him! I won’t employ men I cannot trust, and you may warn him the next time he comes tittle-tattling to you.”

“Glossop merely did what he considered to be his duty, thinking I’d have some influence with you, and you might not understand the seriousness of what you intend. After all, he and I have looked after your inheritance for these past ten years, and it’s hard to see our care made naught of so soon as you come home! And remember, before you begin to threaten him with dismissal, you would be lost without him and myself.”

“So now you presume to threaten me? This is a ridiculous fuss,” Claude snapped. “What a pother about the sale of a small, insignificant hunting-lodge!”

“And some handy farms to support it. Don’t forget those,” Mr Norville rejoined angrily.

“You’re going to sell the hunting-box?” Charlotte exclaimed in surprise, and Claude turned to her in some relief.

“Indeed I am, since I do not care for hunting foxes, and I cannot see why our uncle is so concerned.”

“You wanted my guidance and advice, or so you said,” Mr Norville cut in angrily. “It’s pure folly to sell off your land, and you’ve no need to, for the income you get should be ample without dipping into capital. Indeed, if you sell the income will reduce.”

“I think I’ll be the judge of that. I see no need to explain myself to you, and shall do what I choose. However, you might care to consider what possible use I can have for such a property, as I neither hunt nor wish to engage in such barbaric pursuits!”

“Perhaps you plan to purchase a house in Brighton, or something of that nature instead,” Lady Weare said gently.

Claude turned to her and smiled placatingly, but before he could speak Mr Norville had snorted derisively.

“He’s more likely to be milked by those such as the little ladybird he was seen talking to in the Strand yesterday.”

Claude went white with fury.

“So you spy on me now?”

“I came by the information by accident. A friend of mine saw you in somewhat dubious company, and told me. If that’s your taste, you’d best learn to pay for it without breaking up the estate!”

“Apart from the propriety of discussing what you mistakenly believe to be dubious company before the ladies, it is my property to do with as I choose!” Claude snapped, glancing at his other uncle, who had remained silent throughout these exchanges, leaning back in his chair with a faint expression of scorn on his face. Then he turned, as if in appeal, to Lady Weare. “Aunt Sophia, I am persuaded you will not condemn me. I have no use for this property, I have more than enough with Rowanlea. Yet my French relatives have so little, they have been dispossessed of nearly everything. Their chateaux were burned, and they have lived since the revolution in virtual penury, scraping to find the money for my education, to prepare me for the position I must hold here. I owe them everything. They went without many small comforts, toiling on the farm that was all they had left, to pay for my tutors. I want to repay them, to send them enough to buy a good home, and sufficient land to support them in future. Can this be wrong of me?”

Lady Norville laughed, bitterly.

“Aye, Sophia, if you could have seen the straits we were in at times, you’d not have believed it. Many’s the time Claude has gone barefoot so that we could pay his tutors, even though we could not afford the best of these, and had to be content with what was to be found!”

“It is still foolish to break up the estate. Better to send them an allowance, which you can well afford to do, rather than lose your rents. There would be less likelihood of it falling into that fellow Bonaparte’s hands, too.”

Lady Norville swung round on him, her cheeks flushed.

“Do you dare to say we are giving it to him?” she demanded angrily, but her brother interposed smoothly.

“You misunderstand, Claudine, Mr Norville means it might reach him by accident. Consider, my friends, whether we, who have suffered so deeply as a family, can be expected to give aid to anyone connected with the present unhappy state of France,” he continued, smiling at Lady Weare. “Indeed, I would suggest that the man Glossop, if he mistrusts us, should arrange for, or even himself convey the proceeds of the sale to Bordeaux.”

* * * *

They argued at some length, but Claude was adamant, and Mr Norville at last angrily excused himself, and went out to seek Harry at his rooms, where he was spending the evening quietly in preparation for his race on the following day, and poured out the story into his sympathetic ears.

“For to tell the truth I don’t believe this nonsense about sending it to his impoverished relatives. It’s more than likely he wants the blunt for women, or gambling!”

“I suppose he might feel an obligation towards them, if they really are so poor,” Harry suggested, trying to be fair.

“Pah! If they did spend on him, it was because they knew they were on to a good investment. Yet I don’t believe in that poverty. Claudine came far too well provided for than you might have expected if she’d had to rely on whatever expectations Claude had to borrow money. Look at their clothes. All of them have trunks full, and of the finest quality. And not all of her jewels are heirlooms, or what Frederick gave her. I knew them all.”

“Didn’t she say they had occasionally been pawned?”

“Yes, and how did they contrive to redeem them if they are so poor as she maintains? And have you seen that barbaric diamond ring Claude wears? I know he has not bought that with money from the estate, since he wore it the second night they were here, before he’d got any money or opened accounts. His uncle is sporting some damned expensive trifles as well, and gives the impression he’s always had the best of everything. As for Claude, I’ll never believe he went barefoot! He’s by far too soft. Talk to him, my boy, and try to drive some sense into his head.”

“He’ll not listen to me. I’ll do my best, but we’ve rubbed the wrong way since he came. Odd, he used to be a great fellow.”

* * * *

The race was to start south of the river, on the far side of Westminster Bridge, just beyond the first toll gate. Harry and Jack had selected the Portsmouth road as being less busy than other roads to the west of London. Charlotte, dressed in her newest walking dress of cream muslin, and a pelisse of green with a perky chip straw bonnet trimmed with cream and green ribbons, was waiting for Jack when he called to collect her. Harry was with Jack, waiting in the Square, Amanda beside him. She had on a white muslin gown and a bright pink pelisse, which, Charlotte told herself, clashed horridly with her hair. But somehow it didn’t appear to matter. She still looked strikingly beautiful. Her excitement was infectious, and as the two curricles were driven down Park Lane and through St James’s Park she called out to the others, speculating on what the weather was going to do, for some heavy clouds were gathering in the west, and what chances each driver would have.

Richard Davies had been assigned the task of making sure they started on time, and he was waiting for them at the far side of the bridge. Another friend had been sent ahead to the finishing post near Kingston to judge the winner.

Richard made a great play of inspecting the horses and the harness, much to Harry’s annoyance.

“What’s all this about?” he demanded. “Do you suspect either of us has tampered with the other?’

“Of course not, Harry. But it all has to be seen to be fair. There are considerable sums being wagered on the outcome, and we don’t want people like your—I mean like some of the habitual gamblers, questioning it.’

The clock of a nearby church struck the hour, and Richard, finally satisfied, smiled and said they could start when he dropped his handkerchief.

Charlotte grasped the edge of the seat, expecting Jack to whip up his pair as soon as Richard gave the signal, but he disappointed her by setting the horses into a gentle trot.

“Harry’s getting away from us! Jack, can’t you go faster? At this rate he’ll be in Kingston long before us!”

“I’m waiting for him to take the edge off their enthusiasm,” Jack explained. “Just wait a while, when there is less traffic on the road we’ll soon pass him.”

He was proved correct. After a mile or so, when the stream of coaches and wagons entering London grew less, he urged his pair on. His chestnuts proved to have a remarkable turn of speed, and Charlotte could see Harry’s pair were having a struggle to maintain their initial pace on a long hill.

As they passed Harry, near the summit, Amanda shrieked with dismay, and Harry shouted across to Jack.

“Well done! I let them go too fast at the beginning, I was praying for an accommodation coach to appear and force you to drop back!”

‘Will we stay in front all the way now?’ Charlotte asked, turning to look over her shoulder at Harry, who was not far behind and managing to keep up with them. Amanda was waving her hat and her hair was streaming out behind her.

Jack laughed. “All sorts of things may happen to delay us, or favor one of us. First we must pass the next toll gate.”

“Oh, can I blow the yard or whatever it’s called?” Charlotte asked, but Jack shook his head.

“No, it needs some skill.”

His groom blew a long blast on the post horn, but the gate keeper was slow in emerging from his house, and by the time he had opened the gate Harry, coming up at a cracking pace, was through the gate and past them as they eventually went through and got up speed again.

For a mile Jack was unable to pass, though he maintained the same speed as Harry and was close behind. Then all changed. Charlotte gasped in horror as, in front of Harry, she saw what appeared to be a farmer driving a gig pulled by a fat little pony towards them. He began to turn into a narrow lane, crossing straight in front of Harry, and then, when he saw Harry’s pair bearing down on him, he stopped, and the gig was straddled across the road. The woman with him was squeaking in fright and trying to clamber out of the gig, and there was no room for Harry to pass by on the left. He was too close to the gig to turn and try to pass on the other side, and while he was maneuvering Jack, to Charlotte’s delight, drove straight past. There could not have been an inch to spare between them and the pony, and for a moment Charlotte thought the offside wheel was in the ditch and they would soon be following it.

Jack had judged it to a nicety, though, and there was no disaster. As they swept past Charlotte could hear Harry cursing the farmer loudly, and grinned. No doubt the poor man would be for ever puzzled at his vehemence. But the delay had enabled Jack to gain the advantage, and as Charlotte looked back she was able to report to Jack that it looked as though the wretched man was so dumbstuck he was shaking too much to control his horse, and Partridge had been forced to get down and lead them out of the way

She giggled. “The female is still screeching with her eyes tight shut, and he’s gibbering with fright, and wondering, I dare say, how he comes to be sitting in the lane, and whether or no he’s dreamed it all!”

They kept ahead of Harry for some time, and then met with a further delay. In front of them was a lumbering stage coach, and the traffic in both directions had increased so greatly neither of them could overtake it for some time.

Then the road widened slightly on a bend, and Charlotte gave a gasp of horror as Harry, whipping on his pair, squeezed past them and then the coach on the outside. Jack, muttering that what Harry could do so could he, followed, and Charlotte saw the passengers on the roof staring, most of them cheering as the two curricles shot past. Not all the passengers were so encouraging. She thought the fat man in the fur coat would fall off, he looked so furious.

The next excitement was outside a small inn, in the center of a tiny hamlet with no more than a dozen or so houses on either side of the road, when a huge pig, squealing for mercy, came running from the yard, and after it a collection of ostlers, stableboys, farm hands and urchins, and well in the fore the local parson. One of the young lads threw himself on the pig and contrived to halt it, the parson fell on top of them both, and Harry had the greatest difficulty to prevent his horses from trampling on them. Perforce, he had to halt his pair, as there was no room to get past the crowd. Jack grinned as he pulled up behind them, and watched as Harry, trying to order them to take the wretched pig out of the way, was surrounded by the crowd all trying to reassure him that none of them had let it out of its sty.

Amanda looked back at them and grimaced.

“They don’t have these problems at Newmarket,” she said with a laugh, “but I have to say this is far more fun!”