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—?’
She broke off, breathless with temper.
‘But you are not she, madam, for which I am profoundly thankful. And as we are speaking plainly, I would find it intolerable to conduct business with such a termagant as yourself.’
‘In business, sir, it pays to abide by one’s legal agreement, not seek to gain unfair advantage and then resort to verbal insult.’
‘That, coming from a skilled practitioner such as yourself, is rich, madam.’
Her colour high, she turned her head away from him and pressed her lips together, determined to say no more. They’d now reached the outskirts of Felbrook village and Lucy, who had been quiet during Charlotte’s heated exchange with Hugo Westbury, suddenly raised one of her hands from the saddle and pointed excitedly.
‘Oh, see there, miss, ’tis Ma come to meet me.’
Charlotte was obliged to turn towards him as he slowed the horse to a halt. ‘Kindly lift her down, Mr Westbury. Her mama is waiting for her. Now, Lucy, say “good day” to Mr Westbury and thank him for the ride.’
She waited, stiffly silent, while Lucy obeyed. Then she clasped her hand and the little girl skipped beside her to her waiting mama, her torn dress completely forgotten as she told her mother of the magnificent horse and the kind gentleman who’d given her a ride.
When he’d gone a little distance from them, Hugo Westbury turned to look back and was oddly moved at the sight of the tall, dark-haired young woman walking hand in hand with the golden-haired little girl, before he rode off in the opposite direction.
To her relief, Charlotte didn’t run into Hugo Westbury again as she made her way back to Westbury Hall, but he dominated her thoughts all the same and she pondered on the recent events as she walked on slowly. What a puzzle the man was; so arrogant and domineering and yet so careful and sensitive with Lucy that he’d won the little girl’s confidence in next to no time. Finally, she sighed and had to acknowledge that he was extremely handsome and would no doubt become the heartbreaker of the neighbourhood.
Back at the Hall everything was still in a spin about the removal to Felbrook Manor. Papa’s books were now all safely packed in crates and Kitty and her mother were having a light luncheon in the breakfast parlour. Charlotte’s high colour and restless hands did not escape her mama’s notice, but she said nothing except, ‘Should you like a little luncheon, my dear? There are no hot meats as we are going out to dinner, but Mrs Palmer has prepared a splendid selection of cold cuts and a trifle, if you should wish for anything.’
Charlotte realized then that she was hungry and did justice to several slices of ham and beef with some of Mrs Palmer’s homemade bread to accompany it. She said nothing of her meeting with the obnoxious Mr Westbury, but spoke instead of little Lucy Baker and how pretty she was growing.
They were all pleased at the prospect of visiting Lavinia King and Jane declared cheerfully that apart from their clothes and personal effects, everything was now ready for Jimmy the carter lad, who could take the various boxes and trunks in stages to Felbrook Manor.
It was late afternoon when they all met at Primrose Cottage, to a warm welcome from Lavinia and Matthew.
‘Adam is expected any time now,’ Lavinia said with a blush, which added to her youthful appearance. ‘He is riding over from King’s Lynn so it is hard to say precisely how long it will take. But come, my dear Jane, and tell me all the news of Felbrook Manor and of Westbury Hall, of course. How goes the remove?’
Jane laughed and said in a very carefree tone, ‘Nothing to tell, Lavinia. We are packed and ready to go. It only remains to oversee the carter and to take ourselves to our lovely Felbrook. After all the frenzied activity, we shall not know how to sustain the next five days. There is nothing more to be done now, except to dust down the walls and windows and return the keys to Mr Hugo Westbury. Even the stables have been cleaned out. The horses have been taken to Felbrook by the stable lad and seem already to be quite at home there. Mr Westbury has even seen to the repair of the library wall and everything is neat and tidy.’
‘Why, that is famous progress indeed,’ Lavinia said. ‘What an admirable organizer you are, Jane, to have accomplished so much packing in such a short time.’
Charlotte bit her lip and said nothing as she listened to this conversation. She thought instead of the fuss she’d made to Hugo Westbury about the lease. What must he think of me, she wondered? Then she raised her chin and told herself defiantly that she didn’t care what he thought, but it was obvious to Charlotte that her mama was far from being the downtrodden widow as she’d portrayed her to Hugo Westbury and was, in fact, full of optimism and energy, completely ready for the move to Felbrook Manor.
It was towards six o’clock when Adam arrived at Primrose Cottage and as this was the first time that Jane and her daughters had become aware of the deepening relationship between Matthew’s aunt and their lawyer, they observed them closely. Although they didn’t discuss it with each other, Jane and her daughters all had their own opinions and perspectives on the romance between Adam and Lavinia.
Jane had been extremely happy with her unworldly husband and had no wish to venture into matrimony for a second time, but she knew that Adam had been married briefly, long ago and that his young wife had died of influenza after less than a year of marriage. She thoroughly understood his wish to share his rather solitary life with someone as attractive as Lavinia King and wished them well, particularly as it seemed that Miss King’s nephew, Matthew, would not be left high and dry, but was almost affianced to her elder daughter, Charlotte. After all, what was to stop Lavinia and Adam from living happily ever after, once Matthew and Charlotte were wed? She sighed and glanced across at Kitty. Her younger daughter was so different in personality from the forceful Charlotte, so much more shy and lacking in confidence. Perhaps the diffident curate, Andrew Preston, would prove to be the perfect match for her, if he were able to engage her interest, that is.
Charlotte viewed the romantic friendship between Lavinia and Adam without much interest. She liked Matthew’s aunt and Adam seemed a suitable suitor for her.
As for Kitty, she was totally indifferent to the idea of a mature couple such as Adam and Lavinia finding love. In her eyes, they were old and long past the magic of romantic passion. They’d had their day, whereas she was still young and desperately, hopelessly, in love with someone who was totally unattainable.
Adam approached the ladies very pleasantly and both Kitty and her mother were persuaded that they would enjoy a look round Lavinia’s garden, while Lavinia herself went to the kitchen to see how the dinner was progressing.
Matthew and Charlotte were left alone and for the first time since she’d known him, Charlotte felt somewhat ill at ease with him. Their friendship had been thus far so relaxed and easy-going. They’d seemed always to enjoy each other’s company and felt carefree when they were together. Now, for some reason, Charlotte was uncomfortable and almost critical of Matthew’s open expression and somewhat ingenuous remarks. There kept popping up into her mind’s eye the incredibly handsome face of Hugo Westbury, now smiling, now angry, but always arresting and interesting. She wondered what he was doing now. Probably gloating over his victory at getting Mama to move out early from the Hall, she thought bitterly.
She was roused from her thoughts when Matthew took her hand and tucked it into his arm.
‘Come, Charlotte, what do you say to a walk round Aunt Lavinia’s garden, while the evening is still so fine?’ he said.
She acquiesced willingly to this and they joined the others in the cottage garden, created painstakingly and lovingly over the years by Matthew’s beloved aunt. Here were traditional cottage flowers, interspersed with decorative runner beans, and divided by arches covered in sweet-melling climbing roses, and having here and there little secluded arbours with quaint seats and arches overrun with fragrant honeysuckle. There was much to see and admire and gradually Charlotte’s mood calmed and she sat for a few minutes on a stone bench with Adam Brown, chatting about the journey from King’s Lynn, while Matthew took Kitty to see Lavinia’s giant sunflowers, all turning their faces to the mild, late summer sky.
As Matthew stood beside her, he ran his eyes over Kitty as she smilingly lifted her own face to the sun. She never changed at all, he decided; still the bonny, good-natured girl he’d known ever since she’d come back to live at the Hall. She was such a gentle young thing. He would like having her as a sister, he decided.
As they walked among the roses, they chatted about the riding party which was to take place later in the month. Her two best friends Aurelia Casterton and Ann West had planned the whole thing, she informed him.
‘But of course, their mamas are behind all the organization,’ she said seriously.
These two young ladies were close friends with each other and almost inseparable. They were known collectively as ‘the girls’.
‘And how are the girls?’ Matthew asked, smiling mischievously.
‘Ann has just become engaged. Did you not know? To Squire Thorpe’s son, over near Walsingham way. He is very good-looking and is an only son. Ann’s mama is delighted.’
He imagined he saw a wistful expression in Kitty’s honest grey eyes. ‘No, I had not heard,’ was all he said. He was surprised. The girls were both the same age as Kitty and he hadn’t imagined they would be thinking of marriage yet.
‘Good Lord! I thought she was still a schoolroom miss. Not old enough to be married.’
‘She is eighteen,’ Kitty said rather stiffly and once more he thought he saw both envy and disappointment in her expression.
He smiled. He’d known ‘the girls’ for a long time and knew that even when Aurelia was a little girl, she’d been deliciously chubby, probably because she was always able to persuade her nurse to give her unlimited sweetmeats and delicacies. She’d somehow always been the one who secured the best of everything for herself and was seemingly sublimely indifferent to the needs of others. Ann West was quieter and more modest.
‘So, Matthew, if you are coming to the riding party, you will be able to see her for yourself and Robert Thorpe too, I expect,’ Kitty said, her face expressionless.
Mention of the riding party brought back a memory for Matthew of a similar event when Charlotte and Kitty were very new to the neighbourhood. Kitty really had been hardly out of the schoolroom then and, greatly daring, had given him a very girlish and inexperienced kiss. It had come as a surprise to Matthew, himself not skilled in the art of kissing, and he had been somewhat embarrassed. He wondered if Kitty remembered the schoolgirl kiss as well and, glancing up at her now, he saw that she was looking directly at him and smiling. Good Lord, she was remembering it too, he thought with a shock, but at the same time he smiled back at her, thinking what a very likeable girl she was.
Aloud, he said, ‘Yes, of course I should like to come. Nothing would keep me away, unless Adam has found another skeleton for me.’
They laughed together and then Lavinia called them in and greeted them with wine and little ratafia biscuits and made them so welcome that soon everyone was in the right mood for a delicious dinner. Lavinia had seated Matthew next to Charlotte and opposite Kitty and she and Jane were all set for a cose, as the young people chatted among themselves.
Just as the soup was being served, Adam Brown, bright-eyed and enthusiastic as usual, smiled round the table and said, ‘I am so sorry if I was a trifle late, Lavinia. But listen to this, Matthew, because after you left the office, I was able to collect together some papers for your perusal. I am not sure whether they will be of any practical use to us, but I think they might throw some light on the origin of the skeleton. You may be interested to read them.’
‘Yes, only later, Adam, after dinner,’ Lavinia said firmly, but Charlotte noticed that she gave him a most loving smile as she said it.
Everyone seemed in high humour, including Jane, in spite of having been so distracted with packing and complaints from servants. Charlotte was struck anew at the good humour and energy that her mama put into the most mundane and everyday activities and at how youthful and exuberant was her smile. Thinking back again to her encounter with Hugo Westbury, she felt faintly uneasy that she’d been so out of temper as to insist that her mother was a victim of the landlord’s oppression. But still, she thought, he is such an unpleasant man, it is only too easy to be out of sorts with such as he.
Neither Matthew nor Adam wished to linger over glasses of port once the ladies had left the dining-room and soon they were all of them settled in the drawing-room, agog to hear what Adam Brown had to say.
‘The first item I found in the strong box is a letter writ to my own papa, Edward Brown, nigh on sixty years since, when Sir Benjamin was about to set off for India. Read it to us, Matthew, if you please.’
Westbury Hall
Norfolk
My dear Mr Brown
I write in haste as I am to sail for India in the morning. Acting on your advice, 1 shall take no further interest in the actions of my brother George. He seems to be intent on self-destruction, via drink and gambling. Both he and my youngest brother, Charles, now seem to be at daggers drawn over Lady Mary Spence, a great beauty and from a noble family. God pity her. I believe she is a most amiable and pleasant young woman as well as lovely.
As for myself dear Edward, my trusted friend, I find myself pleased to be leaving England for foreign climes, where I shall have the comfort of action and a change of scene. I find I can no longer abide either London society or even the quiet of Norfolk. My desire is to put as much distance between myself and my brothers as possible. I hope I shall remain in touch with you and, meanwhile, believe me to be your friend and client,
Benjamin Westbury
There was a silence after Matthew had finished reading and finally Charlotte said, ‘It certainly lets us imagine the family tensions of sixty years ago, but it explains nothing of the dead body and the little child in the picture.’
‘And would not Sir Benjamin take exception to our having access to his correspondence with your father, Adam?’ Lavinia asked uneasily.
‘No, my dear,’ he said gently. ‘Sir Benjamin has instructed me to act in any way that I think fit and that could aid in the resolution of the mystery.’
‘But no one here could possibly have the sort of knowledge to aid you in your enquiries,’ Jane protested. ‘Even I was not born when Sir Benjamin went away.’
‘But it can be invaluable as an aide-memoire,’ he said quietly. ‘You and Mr Grayson were born in Norfolk and there must be memories of little things your parents might have said that you can recall to mind.’
Jane Grayson looked thoughtful at this and then said slowly, ‘Yes, I do remember my own mama telling me of a dreadful accident … I think it befell Charles Westbury but my dear mama’s stories were legion. I recall none of it except that the whole family perished at sea.’
‘But how could that be?’ Lavinia asked.
Adam Brown said gently, ‘They appeared to be on their way to Holland and were overtaken by a sudden freak storm which resulted in the loss of all the passengers and most of the crew. According to the newspapers for 19 November 1757, that day, there were severe storms all around Boston and King’s Lynn and from the wreck of the Golden Maiden there were but two who survived. But not all the family perished. The baby in the picture was Hugo’s father, Humphrey, and he had been left in the care of his nurse.
‘Let us pause there, while Matthew reads you another letter, this time from my own father to Sir Benjamin in Mysore.’
Dear Benjamin,
It is with great regret that I write to inform you of the deaths of your brother Charles and his wife, Lady Mary. They suffered with other passengers and crew when the Golden Maiden capsized in a terrible storm off the coast of Cromer. Not all the bodies have been recovered and no one seems to know why your brother and his wife were making the journey to Holland, but whatever the reason, they were tragically young for such a fate. Fortunately, Humphrey, the young baby, was left in the charge of his nurse. The memorial service will be at the end of this month and no doubt you will wish to return to England as soon as may be. There are certain legal formalities to be gone through, now that your brother is dead. My condolences to you and Mr George Westbury.
Edward Brown
‘But, Mr Brown,’ Kitty demanded, ‘if the baby in the picture did not perish with his parents, what did happen to him?’
‘I know that he was cared for by one of the relatives until he was of age. He married Isabel Andrews, an American lady, and Hugo Westbury is his son, the grandson of Charles. Lady Mary’s body was recovered from the wreck of the Golden Maiden but Charles was apparently lost at sea. I know not what happened to the other brother, George. Perhaps the one person to explain the mystery must be Sir Benjamin Westbury. He hopes to be back at the Hall on Friday next and I think that would be the time to visit him.’
The discussion ended there for the moment and the party continued with cards and some music provided by Kitty and Charlotte, who sang very prettily and were accompanied by their mother at the pianoforte. Even Lavinia was persuaded to give them one or two songs in her rich and distinctive contralto voice.
Imperceptibly, the evening was darkening into dusk and while his aunt was singing, Matthew sat side by side with Kitty near the window.
‘It was quite a surprise to hear of Ann West’s engagement, Kitty,’ he teased her. ‘You shouldn’t let her beat you to the altar, you know. You ought to bring some lucky young man up to scratch yourself.’
He expected her to laugh and disclaim coyly at his gentle teasing, but to his utter astonishment, Kitty flushed deeply and lowered her eyes miserably. There was a silence and then she said unhappily, ‘Mama thinks I would do well to accept Andrew – Mr Preston, that is.’
Matthew thought of the gawky young curate with the bobbing Adam’s apple and felt uncomfortable as he realized that Kitty, the normally open and cheerful Kitty whom he liked so much, was hurt and upset by his crass remarks. He tried to make light of it by saying, ‘Good Lord, and here was I thinking you’d be the bride of an earl at least.’ She glanced at him quickly, her full lips trembling a little, but said nothing because Lavinia had been persuaded to sing one last song and everyone was quiet.
Afterwards, as Annie served the tea, he continued the conversation with Kitty very briefly. ‘I am surprised by what you have told me, Kitty. I cannot recall the Reverend Preston ever singling you out particularly.’
Kitty said bitterly, ‘Oh yes, we see him at church every Sunday, of course, and Charlotte and I are both Sunday school teachers. Mama and the vicar, Mr Swift, are on the board of governors at the workhouse in King’s Lynn. Nothing has been said yet, but he seems in favour of Andrew Preston’s suit and Andrew often visits us after evensong on Sundays.’
Matthew thought again of the wispy-haired curate with his spindly legs and worthy but dull personality. ‘Good Lord, Kitty,’ he exclaimed impulsively, ‘you cannot marry him. It would be a disaster. The fellow is an absolute bore.’
‘I know,’ Kitty said, twisting her fingers in her lap. ‘But Mama says that the other ladies in Felbrook all like him.’
‘Then let one of them marry him,’ Matthew said, smiling at her.
‘It is all very well for you to say that, but Uncle Bertram is also in favour of my accepting Mr Preston. He thinks that Mr Preston has excellent prospects for advancement. According to Uncle Bertram, we are soul mates.’
Her pretty lips twisted scornfully and Matthew said with some concern, ‘You are not engaged to the fellow, are you?’
‘No,’ Kitty said, but she said it with the sort of hopeless sigh which implied that it was only a question of time before the masterful Uncle Bertram would get his own way. ‘Uncle Bertram thinks that if a young lady does not take sensible opportunities for an eligible marriage, she will end up at her last prayers.’
‘What fustian,’ he said reassuringly. ‘But still, do not concern yourself, Kitty. He cannot force you to marry if you do not wish it.’
‘He can wear down my determination, though, and I may run out of reasons for resisting.’
‘Have no fear,’ he said, patting her hand reassuringly. ‘I shall think of a resolution to the problem.’
‘Will you indeed, Matthew?’ She looked up at him tremulously and he saw her eyes were filled with tears. Quickly she turned away and dabbed her eyes with her lace handkerchief. In the past year, since he had been friendly with the Grayson family, he had never known Kitty to cry and he was surprised at the compassion she aroused in him. He patted her hand awkwardly, searching for words of comfort for her, and with a visible effort Kitty tried to smile.
‘I am so sorry to be a watering pot, Matthew. I expect you hate missish girls who cry?’
Kitty was such an appealing little thing, he thought, and although he had never before felt any attraction for her in that way, when he had seen her tears, he’d felt a keen desire to help her.
But thinking along those lines was not going to provide him with an answer to the problem of Mr Preston and Uncle Bertram’s desire to see Kitty safely married. He must try and calm her and not let her become agitated by the pressures which were being forced on her. He set himself out to be gently amusing and chatted to Kitty of the various clients that he had dealt with lately, all of whom were characters he found entertaining. Before Annie came to offer them both some tea, Matthew had succeeded in calming her and Kitty had regained her composure long before it was time for the Graysons to leave.