A Particular Circumstance (7 page)

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.’

‘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.

The day of the riding party started with exceptionally
splendid
sunshine, even for an Indian summer.

‘I know that this weather cannot last,’ Jane Grayson sighed. ‘Make the most of it, my dears, because tomorrow is removal day and we shall be too busy to think of such fripperies as riding parties for days to come.’

Both her daughters smiled at this, knowing that their mama’s consummate organizing ability would make the removal almost painless, and then they continued with their preparations for the picnic. John Dean had brought the horses from Felbrook Manor and by two o’clock, both Charlotte and Kitty were dressed in smart velvet riding habits and were ready to go.

Augusta Casterton was a widow and her only daughter, Aurelia, was her life. Tall, commanding, with advanced social aspirations and very wealthy, Augusta’s most burning
ambition
was to see Aurelia well married. She privately despised Ann West’s parents for allowing their daughter to accept an offer of marriage from Robert Thorpe, who in her opinion was but a modest country squire. True, he was wealthy but he would never be a member of the
ton
and Ann would never be accepted in the top echelons of society. Aurelia, on the other hand, would never be allowed to throw herself away on such as he. Since the return of Sir Benjamin and his heir, she’d decided that Hugo Westbury would fulfil the role of her
future son-in-law to perfection.

He had graciously accepted her invitation to join the other young people of the neighbourhood for a ride round Mrs Casterton’s estate, followed by a lavish and luxurious alfresco meal, but she had seen his acceptance as nothing to signify. Augusta Casterton was a very astute woman of the world. She knew that Mr Westbury would be accepting many
invitations
and mixing socially with Felbrook society, especially once he was settled at the family home and able to return such hospitality. She guessed that with Sir Benjamin in frail health, Hugo Westbury would soon be seeking a wife. But not just yet, she thought cynically. He would give himself time to survey the possibilities and to play the field.

Perhaps none of the young damsels in the area would please him. Except Aurelia, that is, her one and only chick, in whom she had invested such time and emotional effort and money, of course. Aurelia was sure to please the most
exacting
gentleman. So Mrs Casterton bided her time and refused to see anything exceptional in his agreeing to attend the picnic. There would be many more invitations for him,
especially
in the lead up to Christmas, as the other mamas urged their darling daughters to set their caps at such a prize, and she was not going to allow Aurelia to appear to be too eager for a husband.

Even Bertram Grayson had accepted an invitation. Although not riding with the other young people, he arrived exquisitely dressed in a very modish outfit and proceeded to devote himself entirely to Mrs Casterton.

Bowing over her hand, he murmured, ‘Charmed, my dear ma’am. A most felicitous day for your outdoor venture. And the sun is set to shine on you and dear Miss Aurelia. So kind to invite an old fuddy-duddy like myself. I am sure I will enjoy being in such gay and youthful company.’

He gave her the benefit of his most attractive smile, while seeming hardly to notice Aurelia’s existence. Mrs Casterton liked him on sight. No fortune hunter here, she decided to 
herself, nor fuddy-duddy either. Rather, a handsome, worldly wise but modest young man who was putting himself out to be civilized and obliging. She immediately entrusted dear Aurelia into his care while she hurried off to check the
catering
arrangements yet again. Aurelia didn’t seem inclined to ride just yet, so Bertram offered his arm with a polite bow and led her off on a decorous walk round the gardens.

The other riders were all young and most of them were acquainted with each other already and all were looking forward to the afternoon picnic. All except for Kitty, that is, for as she and Charlotte had smilingly ridden together to meet Matthew, she’d caught sight of the curate, Andrew Preston. He was mounted on a fine chestnut mare and unlike the other young men of the party, who were in casual country nankeen jackets and breeches, he was dressed rather formally in his dark parson’s clothes. Matthew had also noticed him and swiftly positioned himself between Kitty and Andrew Preston, so that the curate’s view of her was obscured. In spite of her sweet nature, Kitty was not without her own strategies for dealing with her unwanted suitor and as he called ‘Good afternoon, ladies’ in his light tenor voice, she took the
opportunity
to spur her horse a little further away from him and she and Charlotte cantered round a little patch of scrubby trees, closely followed by Matthew King.

‘Mrs Casterton has said that we may ride where we will until three o’clock and then we shall meet back here again for a picnic,’ Kitty informed Matthew.

He glanced towards Mr Preston, who did not appear to be lacking for female company, and said quietly, ‘Should you care to ride towards the park? I have never had the chance to explore the woods on the boundary of Mrs Casterton’s estate, where it joins Sir Benjamin’s land.’

Both girls were eager. Charlotte knew that it was perfectly in order for her to wander with Matthew when accompanied by her sister and Kitty had no compunction at playing
gooseberry
if it meant avoiding Andrew Preston.

They had a swift canter as far as the woods and then slowed to a walking pace as they followed the path in single file, ducking to avoid overhanging branches and enjoying the peace and the sweetness of the birdsong. All three of them were quiet as they arrived at the edge of Mrs Casterton’s parkland, which adjoined that of Sir Benjamin Westbury and was bounded by a narrow stream. To Charlotte’s surprise, they were not alone. There in front of them was Hugo Westbury’s great black horse, Gypsy, his long, glossy neck stretched low over the water. She froze as the hated Hugo came into view, walking at the side of Aurelia Casterton, who was on horseback, and her Uncle Bertram. Bringing up the rear was Aurelia’s maid.

Charlotte took all this in instantly and would have turned and fled had not Ann West and her brother also arrived, both mounted on glossy chestnut mares. Matthew said with a smile, ‘Miss Casterton, Miss West. Gentlemen. Good day.’

Bows and polite greetings were exchanged while Charlotte remained fuming with impatience to be gone from Hugo Westbury’s hateful presence. Matthew had no notion of her feelings and was very affable in inviting the others to join their group at the picnic. Ann and her brother declined, saying they were promised to keep company with Robert Thorpe and his party, but Mr Westbury accepted very politely, without even a glance in Charlotte’s direction, and so they parted very amicably.

The picnic was planned for three o’clock and Charlotte and her sister were able to have an exhilarating gallop along the boundaries of the Casterton land with Matthew, before they returned to the picnic spot and chose a place under the spreading shade of a large tree. John Dean, Mrs Grayson’s groom, helped the girls down and tethered the horses nearby. He spread the picnic rugs and Mrs Casterton’s footman came forward with suitable napery, glasses and cutlery and prepared to serve them with some of the delectable food provided by their hostess. The sisters sat with their backs 
against the warm, gnarled trunk of the tree and Matthew lounged at his ease near to them, plying them with a little of each new delicacy being served by the footman, until they both laughingly cried, ‘No more!’

This is how Hugo Westbury saw them as he walked across the grass, followed by a groom leading his huge black
stallion
. He knew hardly anyone at the picnic, although he
recognized
Matthew, the young partner in Sir Benjamin’s firm of lawyers. Oh, and the unpleasantly aggressive Miss Charlotte Grayson, of course, he thought to himself sardonically. She looked very attractive, laughing in the sunshine, but he noticed that her laughter faded as he approached. Definitely a young lady to be avoided at all costs.

Matthew was the first to greet him and rose to shake his hand. ‘Mr Westbury, I am so pleased you have come to join us, sir.’

Hugo bowed civilly to the two girls and he and Matthew joined them on the grass, both young men eating with hearty appetites. Mrs Casterton had an ice house and the lemonade was pleasantly cold as was the chilled white wine and all four of them sipped appreciatively, until finally, their appetites satisfied, Matthew smiled at the newcomer and said, ‘Let me raise my glass to you, sir, and welcome you back to Felbrook. I know you will be moving into the family home very soon. Your continuing good health, Mr Westbury, and I hope you will prosper as the manager of the Westbury estate.’

Both Charlotte and Kitty listened to this with conflicting emotions. Kitty, noticing Mr Preston hovering on the edge of their little group, studiously avoided looking at him and hoped his presence would not be noticed. Instead she gazed at Mr Westbury with a very pleasant expression and raised her glass obediently for Matthew’s toast. Charlotte, still
feeling
absolute dislike for the arrogant and obnoxious Hugo Westbury, lifted her glass with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm and didn’t smile. None of this was lost on Hugo Westbury,
who made a point of being affable to Matthew while ignoring the sisters.

‘And how are the investigations continuing, Mr King?’

‘Well, some progress, sir. My partner Adam Brown has now definitely identified the unfortunate young man as your late grandfather and he will be able to tell you more when you meet us in the office.’ He lowered his voice and said gently, ‘Mr Brown has arranged for the remains to be moved to the coroner’s office at King’s Lynn, where a closer examination may be made.’

Hugo Westbury said, ‘I see.’ And that was all.

Watching him, Charlotte was fascinated by the expression on his face. Sadness, certainly, and puzzlement as well. As though aware of her scrutiny, he composed his features into an expression of sardonic amusement and said, ‘And what about you, Miss Grayson? The deceased was obviously a
relative
of mine. Do you have any theories as to how the poor fellow could have met his end?’

‘No, sir, only what Mr Brown and Mr King here have guessed at.’ She spoke stiffly, all the pleasure of the picnic now having been destroyed by the presence of Hugo Westbury and the reminder of the grisly find at Westbury Hall.

He sensed her antipathy and decided to taunt her a little further. ‘I trust you are now completely over the shock of your macabre discovery, Miss Grayson, and are ready to move out of the Hall tomorrow?’

His eyes were mocking but she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her anger. ‘Why, yes, Mr Westbury,’ she said in a fair imitation of Ann West’s sweet voice. ‘Mama has moved heaven and earth so that we will be out tomorrow.’ Her raised chin and glinting eyes belied her gentle tones and she gazed at him just as challengingly as she had done when he’d caught her meandering along the muddy path and had narrowly avoided an accident. It was obvious that this angry and unreasonable young woman was determined to cross
swords with him yet again. She would regret it, he thought grimly. The female who was able to get the better of Hugo Westbury had not yet been born. He turned towards Matthew King, deliberately cutting her out of the conversation, and proceeded to talk about estate business, the state of the crops and his ideas for the repair and renovation of some of the cottages. This gave Andrew Preston the opportunity he needed to greet Kitty and Matthew King and to sit down near the sisters. They had to greet him politely and, unusually, Charlotte actually welcomed his presence. After all, she could effectively cut out Hugo Westbury now by conversing animatedly with the young curate.

He was most unsuitably dressed for the occasion with his starchy dog collar and the damp, wispy hair was flattened against his brow with the heat. It was obvious that he was eager for an opportunity to chat with Kitty and gradually Charlotte withdrew from conversation with him and looked instead at Matthew and Hugo Westbury. Their conversation had also petered out and they both lay back, relaxing in the warm sun, holding half-empty wine glasses.

Although Hugo Westbury had pointedly ignored
Charlotte
, he was reclining next to her on the picnic rug, his eyes closed against the glare of the August sun, and she was able to study him unobserved. She took note of the bronzed hands, one of them still languidly holding the glass, the fingers long and slender for a man, his white shirt casually unbuttoned at the wrist and rolled back slightly. Her eyes moved higher to watch the steady rise and fall of his powerful chest. Like all the young men present, he had dispensed with a cravat and there was a sprinkling of fine, dark hair showing through the immaculate shirt, which was open at the neck, revealing the strong, tanned column of his throat. Charlotte studied his profile, the prominent, almost beaky nose and firm, shapely mouth. His cheekbones were aristocratically high and his black lashes hid his unusual blue eyes. One lock of black hair had fallen over his brow and she had a sudden impulse to
brush it back. He was frowning slightly because of the sun and she was very conscious of the warmth of his body so near to her own. His grasp on the glass had now become slack. His other hand supported his head and it almost seemed as if he were asleep.

Suddenly, he opened his eyes and for one startling moment her own eyes were locked into his incredible blue gaze. Then, as the warm colour flooded her cheeks, she quickly glanced away and looked instead at her sister and Andrew Preston, still talking stiltedly and seemingly oblivious of her interest in Hugo Westbury.

Hugo Westbury was equally affected when he realized how intense her gaze had been. As he rolled over and sat up, the look he directed at Charlotte was unfathomable. He rose unhurriedly and bowed politely, but with an almost sneering expression as he took his leave of her. Definitely a young woman to be avoided, he told himself.