A Kiss from the Heart (3 page)

Once he had finished dressing he almost felt like a new man. He strode over to the looking glass and coolly regarded his reflection.

The firm jaw was much like his father's whilst the cool blue eyes were inherited from his mother. The thick eyebrows were straight and neat and his nose was strong and aquiline.

It was a handsome face, but one that wore the cares of the world.

“Please bring me devilled kidneys, kedgeree, toast and Dundee marmalade, Monkhouse,” he ordered, feeling shocked at the weary expression that had greeted his gaze.

“Very good, my Lord.”

Monkhouse reflected that this was a very different young gentleman to the one who had left five years earlier.

‘He has seen death and destruction,' he pondered. ‘And how heartbreaking to return home to yet more!'

The Earl ate in his room in an act of avoidance. He could not face his mother and siblings knowing that the talk would revolve around the impending funeral.

Of course there was no question that the old Earl would not be interred in the family vault in the grounds of Ledbury Hall, but would there have to be a grand public funeral?

‘Why can we not pay our last respects in private?' he sighed to himself, as Monkhouse cleared away his plate. He had eaten heartily and was much delighted to discover that cook's fare was as delicious as he had remembered.

Just then, there was a loud knock on the door and Monkhouse went to open it.

“Is my son up and about?”

The Earl groaned inwardly. As much as he loved his mother, he did not wish to be reminded of what lay ahead.

The Countess did not wait for the manservant to reply, pushing past him to find her son, sitting back in his chair satiated after his fine meal.

“Ah, Robert. I hope you are well rested, there is so much we have to do today and now so little time in which to organise things.”

“You speak of the funeral, Mama?”

“Of course. I have already sent word to the Bishop of Worcester to enquire if he might make the Cathedral available to us next Wednesday and your father's secretary has drawn up a preliminary list of guests – ”

The Earl put up his hand to halt her flow.

“Mama, can we not have just a small private family ceremony? Is there really any need for it to be a circus?”

Tears at once sprang into his mother's blue eyes.

“Your father was one of the most important men in this County. It would not feel as if his memory was being properly respected unless everything is done just so. Far from it being, ‘a circus', we must allow everyone to pay their respects! I expect Her Majesty will want to attend – ”

“Mama, I meant that it should be a private affair.”

“Then, you are wrong, Robert. Quite, quite wrong. A Peer of the Realm does not simply slide into his grave with a whisper and a few mumbled prayers. We must do what is expected of us.”

Her lip quivered as she spoke, but the Earl only too clearly recognised the steely tone.

She had not agreed at all with her husband's lenient treatment of their sons and had been secretly thrilled when Robert had informed her of his intention of joining the Household Cavalry.

Although his posting to duty in India had caused her many a sleepless night, she was proud that he was in service to his country.

“Mama, must we always do what is expected of us?”

“Robert, we have a duty to lead by example. To be a member of the Nobility carries much responsibility.”

“Well, it is one I don't care for,” he replied in a tired voice.

“Like it or not, Robert, you are now the Earl. Now, I will leave you to ruminate on your new responsibilities as I have much to attend to. I realise this has hardly been the homecoming you envisaged, but we must carry on as best we can. I will see you in the drawing room for tea at half-past three, I hope?”

Sulkily he nodded his head.

As the door banged behind his mother, he suddenly felt a wave of grief threatening to overcome him.

He had always felt more in common with his father and he missed him terribly already. His mother came from a strict Scottish family, but when it came to raising their children she had been overruled by her more lenient spouse. Being a good wife had often meant bending to the will of her husband.

“Ach, you will just turn them all into soft useless articles!” she would sigh, when the boys were younger and they had been excused from yet another slew of duties by their benevolent father.

The Earl recognised that he would find it difficult to oppose her wishes in this matter, so he resigned himself to the funeral turning into a public spectacle and rose from his chair.

He made his way to his father's study and glanced at the piles of correspondence on the desk. The secretary was nowhere to be seen, but he could glimpse evidence of her handiwork in every corner of the room.

A large ledger rested on a chair and he picked it up. Flicking through the pages, he could see it was a record of salaries paid to the estate workers.

He sighed and closed it with a snap.

‘Perhaps Mama will take care of all this,' he said to himself. ‘And the secretary will know what to do with the general correspondence.'

In his mind he was already managing to abdicate his new responsibilities to others. After all was there not always someone else to take them off his shoulders?

He stretched up to the ceiling and wondered how he might occupy himself.

‘Perhaps a ride,' he muttered, before realising how heartless that might appear to the estate workers.

Although the degree of mourning advocated by the Queen after the death of her beloved husband, Albert, was no longer considered at all fashionable, Society still expected certain rituals to be observed. Frowning deeply, the Earl tutted to himself at the prospect of confining himself to the Hall for the next few months.

Had he not seen enough misery during the Afghan War? There may have been splendid balls and parties most nights, but death had always been around the next corner tainting his enjoyment of such frivolity.

The truth was that he was a somewhat selfish young man. How could he be anything but? He had been spoilt and indulged by his father and now that the yoke of responsibility had been placed around his neck, it chafed him sorely.

Gloomily he left the study in search of Emmeline or Alicia. But he was told by one of the footmen that both ladies were confined to their rooms.

“And my brother Alec?”

“He is visiting the tenant farmers, my Lord. He expressed a wish to visit them personally to tell them the terrible news about his Lordship.”

Robert nodded his head and felt a stab of guilt. As the eldest son, that should have been his task. However, if Alec chose to do it, he had no argument with that – yawning, he passed his hand through his hair.

‘How to while away the time?' he mused.

He had been used to being issued with orders and following them, but now he was just like a rudderless ship, wafting through the rooms at Ledbury Hall aimlessly.

With the day being so fine, it was not long before he found himself outside in the garden. A gentle breeze caressed his skin as the sun shone down pleasantly on him.

Looking around at the familiar scenes he now noticed that every servant was either wearing a black suit or, in the case of the women, stiff black dresses. Even the gardeners and all the stable boys were wearing black armbands out of respect.

Seeing their bowed heads and obvious grief brought a lump to his throat. Walking quickly back to his rooms, he bolted the door and let the torrent of emotion that he had been bottling up inside him erupt.

*

The funeral was indeed a grand affair.

Although they were not graced with the presence of the Queen herself, the Prince of Wales attended and made a great fuss of Emmeline and Alicia before he left Worcester Cathedral.

Throughout the service, the Earl stood emotionless and dry-eyed while his mother and sisters wept bitterly.

Afterwards he stood outside the Cathedral door to shake everyone's hands and receive their condolences.

“Make your father proud!” they exhorted him, one after the other.

He wanted to shout at them and tell them to mind their own business, but instead he just gritted his teeth and mulled over what he would do next.

‘The rural life is not for me,' he told himself firmly. ‘After the funeral I will proceed to London and decide what I will do next.'

And so a few days after the funeral, unable to stand the gloomy atmosphere at Ledbury Hall, he commanded Monkhouse to pack up and ordered the carriage to take him to Worcester Station.

“I expect your Regiment are requiring you to take up a post in London,” his mother had said. “Once I have tidied up your father's affairs, I will join you in London.”

“Yes, Mama,” he replied, kissing her soft cheek.

He had expected her to rebuke him for running away from what was expected of him and had been a little surprised when she had acquiesced so readily to his announcement that he was going to London.

“The estate is in good safe hands with Alec,” he said, walking towards his carriage.

“Yes,” she answered noncommittally.

But after a week in London, the Earl found himself tired and jaded.

He had visited the Headquarters of the Household Cavalry, but when he entered their premises, he dismissed any notion of continuing his military career.

An excellent lunch later at Brooke's Club with a comrade soon put paid to any lingering vestige of nostalgia for the Army.

“We have had done with all that, old man,” said his friend, Lord Dewbury. “The events we have seen do not bear recalling – no, we are both young men, we should be enjoying ourselves. Now, tell me, are you available on Thursday evening? Only I have just discovered this rather topping establishment just off St. James's. Darned good-looking gels on the card tables.”

“Women? On the card tables?”

The Earl looked at once astonished and intrigued.

“Yes, I know it's a tad out of the ordinary, old man, but Mrs. du Barry who owns the place knows a thing or two about what gentlemen like.”

“And these women – ?”

“Same as any other – they all have their own price. Now, are you in or not? It is a dashed difficult place to get into unless you know someone who is already a member.”

The Earl licked his lips in anticipation.

There had been women in India. Mainly wealthy widows who were in the market for a degree of adventure and who would oblige one. They understood how a man feels after the heat of battle has subsided.

And, although he had a man's needs, he had no stomach for the high-class houses around Oxford Street –

“Yes, David,” he replied after a short deliberation. “Perhaps we shall dine here first and you simply must let me pick up the bill.”

With a convivial clinking of glasses, the deal was sealed and the Earl was looking forward with relish to the forthcoming entertainment.

*

As the Countess was later to remark, that very day marked the beginning of the long slide from grace for her eldest son.

While Alec proved himself to be a man in every sense of the word at the family home in Worcestershire, the Earl took to the London high life like the most hidebound of buccaneers.

Not long after he installed himself in London, his mother had made the decision to follow suit in order to keep an eye on him.

The weeks turned into months and she scarcely recognised the surly man who kept such nocturnal hours.

“
I am worried for Robert
,” she wrote to Emmeline.

“
He is as a stranger to me since the funeral. He stays out carousing all night and Heaven only knows where he might be! He is drinking far too much and, I believe, gambling heavily. I do not much care for the company he keeps, but I hesitate to mention it for he has the filthiest temper these days!”

After the Earl had spent yet another night on the town, his mother steeled herself for a confrontation.

The way he was conducting himself was in danger of blighting the family's name and she could not tolerate it. Besides, they were still officially in mourning!

She paced the floor, waiting for him to rise from his bed.

Hiscock had just informed her “his Lordship arrived home just as the maids were cleaning the drawing room.”

“Goodness!” she had exclaimed. “You mean six o'clock in the morning?”

“It would have been around that hour, my Lady.”

It was mid-afternoon when he finally showed his face.

His mother was seated in the drawing room with her embroidery when he entered, blinking against the light.

“Must you have it so dashed bright in here, Mama? It reminds me of the stage at the
Lyceum
!”

She shuddered as she noted the theatrical reference. She had ears enough to note the gossip that her son had been consorting with low actresses.

“It is a beautiful day outside and you should be out in the fresh air and not in here, Robert!”

She looked up at him with a stern gaze.

Her son's face bore all the marks of a debauched evening. His cool blue eyes were bloodshot and there were marked pouches beneath them. His skin no longer lightly tanned but sallow and lined.

Had she not known that he was twenty-six years of age, she would have taken him for a much older man.

“Robert, there is a matter I wish to speak to you about,” she began. “It is high time that you shouldered the responsibilities that come with your title and take the yoke from Alec.”

“But Alec enjoys it!” he protested with a careless shrug. “It makes him feel important. I would not take that small joy away from him.”

His tone was so sarcastic and unbecoming, it made her wince to hear such world-weariness in his voice and it pained her that he seemed utterly disinterested in his duties.

“Robert, the time has come for me to put my foot down. You are the Earl – not Alec – and it is not right that he should continue to run the estates while you idle away your days on questionable pursuits. Do you realise how your reputation could affect the ability of your sisters to attain a good match? They are now about to undertake a Grand Tour of Europe and I cannot allow their chances to be ruined by you.”