Brothers at Arms (32 page)

“My father…?” His face was ashen.

“No,” said the tutor, “it is your brother, Matthew Norbery, who is dead.”

Joshua’s shoulders sagged. “How…?”

Charlie felt an overwhelming sense of relief it was not Uncle Tom.

“Your father tells of a sailing accident whilst your brother was staying with friends in Ireland.”

It was easy to imagine the type of characters they were, nasty brutes who bullied children, as they had when Joshua was a lad. Charlie could not understand why Joshua’s mother welcomed such people, when she did not bother about decent folk.

“When did it happen?” said Joshua.

Dr Hawley paused to look at the paper.

“The date on the letter is a month ago. Your father asks us to return with all haste.”

“I can’t believe it.” Joshua turned away to hide his emotions. “I have been free of him for a month, and yet I didn’t know.”

Charlie understood his friend’s sense of release. He too felt relief, but doubted if the tutor knew of the indignity Joshua suffered at his brother’s hands.

Sergeant Percival completed the travel arrangements so quickly that there was scarcely time to write a letter informing Lady Kenchester’s party of the news.

On reaching Naples, they found that the British Ambassador had secured berths for them on a naval vessel leaving for England. They set sail, knowing all would be well, as long as the ship did not encounter the French fleet. That was in the lap of the gods.

It was a relief to be going home, not least because it solved the problem with Lady Rosie. Times out of number, Charlie had watched the lady’s expression when she met Joshua. Her words of greeting might be formal, but the look in her eyes told a different story. He knew at first that his friend took her interest as sisterly, but it was much more than that now.

Charlie revelled in the drama of the rough seas, but he was concerned when Joshua spent several days heaving over a bowl, and when the mal de mer eased, lay on his bunk looking at the ceiling. He hardly spoke to a soul or ate any of the food Gilbert prepared.

He did not know what to do. In the end, he consulted Dr Hawley.

“Sir, what can we do to help Joshua?”

“I don’t think anyone can at present,” the tutor said. “His brother’s death will have a profound effect on his life, and it will take time to adjust to his new status. It is hard for him, but I felt obliged to point out his new responsibilities.”

“I don’t understand, sir. What kind of responsibilities?”

“Joshua became the heir to Linmore on his brother’s death, and in turn will be Squire Norbery.”

“You mean Josh will have to stay at Linmore?”

“Exactly – he cannot join the army now. His father has no one else to take his place.”

Poor Josh. All his hopes and dreams had gone. No wonder he looked sad.

“But that won’t be for years yet. Uncle Tom…”

“Is a relatively young man, but Joshua will have to learn to manage the estate. I am sure once he comes to terms with the change, he will do his duty.”

“I suppose you are right, sir.”

The exchange left Charlie feeling confused. He had always wanted to join the army, but since coming to Linmore, his plans and Joshua’s hopes were interlinked. Now everything had changed – for both of them.

When Charlie entered the cabin he shared with Joshua, he found him lying on his bunk. “Dr Hawley wanted me to ask how you are feeling, Josh,” he said.

Joshua turned to face him, his eyes shadowed from lack of sleep.

“If I tell you that,” he intoned, “he’ll think I’m filled with grief, and say prayers for me. How can I be, when Matthew would have seen me dead many times, and my mother as well? I never felt anything for him but fear – and it dulls the senses. I keep expecting to hear his footsteps – the clicking of the raised heels he wore to make him look taller. I can’t feel pity, except for my father for what it means to him, losing his oldest son. Someone has to feel sorry for him.”

He fumbled in his pocket for a handkerchief, and blew his nose.

“You won’t tell him what I said, will you?”

“No,” said Charlie. “I’ll say you were asleep.”

After Charlie went away, Joshua lay on the bed, thinking. Amongst the jumble of thoughts filling his mind, Rosie stood out like a beacon, reminding him of the generosity of spirit and, he thought, something like love. He had never felt it before; nor did he understand why any woman would want him – yet she had, with an almost desperate need, which echoed his own yearning. So intense, it was easy to lose control. That is what scared him.

Sadly, she was in the past now. Linmore called him and he had to go. Dr Hawley told him of his duty and he could not fail his father. What was it Lady Kenchester said about finding occupation? His future was settled, but not as he thought it would be.

It was not his brother for whom he grieved, but the childhood dream he shared with Charlie. Honesty forced him to admit his wish to join the army started more as a desire to be free of Matthew Norbery than his wish to be a soldier.

Everything changed when Charlie came to Linmore. His soldiering was instinctive, and where he led, Joshua followed. They did everything together, so what more natural than being brothers at arms?

Not everything had changed for the worst, because his brother was gone. The knowledge that Matthew had lost his power to hurt gave Joshua a new taste for life, so he joined Charlie on the brigantine deck, and watched the stormy seas of the Bay of Biscay. Soon, they would be home.

“Do you think Joshua and Charlie will have heard the news about Matthew yet?”

Back at Linmore, Jane asked the question that had filled Tom’s mind every day for the last week. No, longer than that, but he was realistic about the limitations in the delivery of mail.

“I’d hope so by now,” he said. “I sent the letter to Sir William Hamilton, in Naples, asking him to ensure it reached Dr Hawley in Rome with all urgency.”

How else could he send such news, except through diplomatic channels?

“What about Sophie?” she asked. “Should we tell her about Matthew?”

Tom shook his head.

“Knowing Sophie, I doubt it would bother her unduly. It’s not as if they were friends.”

“No,” she said, “quite the reverse. As you say, it’s better to leave her where she is until Charlie is home again.”

“The waiting is the worst, and not knowing when to expect them. Feeling helpless to prepare them for what lies ahead. The changes will be significant. I think I should await them in London, and come back with them. I don’t want Joshua to see Kate alone, and fear he may think it is his duty.”

Jane nodded agreement.

“How is Kate today?” he said. “I don’t think my presence helped her.”

“It’s not your fault,” she said. “You didn’t want him to go. Kate must accept the blame for encouraging Matthew to run contrary to your wishes. She will not, of course. It’s not the Stretton way, to accept responsibility.” Then she added. “How was it for you, in Ireland?”

Tom looked exhausted.

“It was horrible,” he said, “knowing what it would do to Kate’s state of mind. Yet, when I considered what she and Matthew would have done to Linmore, had he lived, I couldn’t help feeling somewhat relieved. Is it wrong to leave him buried in Ireland, knowing that now, Linmore will have its rightful heir?”

“Stop tormenting yourself, Tom. You could not bring him back in the state he was. He’d been in the sea for three weeks at least.”

“I know, but the sight of him will never leave me.” Tom shivered and changed the subject. “I’ll be glad to have the lads home again. I’ve missed them.”

“So have I,” said Jane. “I wonder what they will be like. They have grown into men, and I suppose there will have been women in their lives. When the bereavement year is over, we will need to plan for Sophie to have a Season, but I think Winifred would probably organise it.”

“Yes,” he said. “I’ll broach the subject when I see her.”

He stopped, debating aspects of the situation he had not told her.

“What is it, Tom?” she said, sensing his dilemma. “There’s more to this, isn’t there?”

He nodded. “I didn’t tell you at the outset, but the letter I received informing me of the accident was addressed to the father of Matthew Stretton. That was how his friends knew him, and how I had him buried. You see, Jane – in his final hours, Matthew rejected Linmore. Maybe that makes it easier to understand.”

He hesitated, trying to gather his thoughts. “I was told there were a number of women in the water as well. It seems the orgies at the castle were well known, but in the past, they always brought harlots in from outside the district. This time, several local girls were involved. Maidservants, I believe, but nobody knows whether they went willingly, or were coerced. Their families were devastated – not knowing whether to shun or grieve their daughters. At least for me, it was straightforward. I knew what Matthew was.”

“Oh, God, not more signs of the Stretton heritage,” she said. “Will we never be rid of them?”

“Yes, we will…eventually,” he said in a weary voice. “Matthew was not the only one of Kate’s family to drown. I saw the names of Nathan Stretton and one of his younger brothers in the burial register, but didn’t dare tell Kate. I hope that no one else does. Another of their friends lived in London. His father was there a few days before me. For all I know, we might have passed at the docks, without knowing we were on the same sad errand.”

Jane shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes.

“What a tragic waste of young female lives, and another old Irish title, given to the English Aristocracy, brought into disrepute.”

Late Summer – 1800

They reached Portsmouth in the middle of a thunderstorm, heartily sick of the sea, and anxious to be on their way, but the lateness of the hour forced them to seek lodgings in the town.

They set off the following day, with more than a hundred and fifty miles ahead. It was a journey dogged by delays, and despite regular changes of horses, took four days of bone-shaking travel before they reached Linmore. Charlie’s heart lifted when he saw the Hall then fell again, for the dreary, overcast sky made it look more than ever a house in mourning.

Apart from the servants, Aunt Jane was the first person they saw. She looked tired, but wrapped her comforting arms around them in welcome. From her, they learned that Squire Norbery, expecting them to disembark in London, was waiting at his sister’s house in Cavendish Square. He had planned to travel home with them.

When Joshua asked to see his mother, Aunt Jane demurred. It was so unusual, and Charlie hoped his friend would not insist, but he did. Aunt Jane deliberated for a moment, before saying, “Your father wanted to be here with you, Joshua; but if you feel you must, I’ll see if Martha thinks it is advisable.”

“Waiting won’t make it any easier,” he said. “I’ll have to do it sometime, so it might as well be now.”

Aunt Jane sighed. “If you insist, but I really don’t advise it.”

“I’ll come with you.” Charlie wanted to help, but felt uncomfortable, going against Aunt Jane’s advice.

The dressing room where Aunt Norbery sat was dark and gloomy. The single candle on the side table shed so little light, it gave an eerie feeling to the room. Even the fire burning in the grate did not lift the dismal atmosphere.

Charlie wished they had not come. He knew Joshua wanted to do the right thing, but if Aunt Jane expressed concern, he was not sure this was a good time.

Aunt Norbery sat in an armchair, seemingly oblivious to their presence. Her deep-set eyes looked vacant and her skin waxen as if she too was preparing for the final journey. Then, Joshua entered the room.

“Mama,” he said, “I’m so sorry.”

The sound of his voice effected a startling change. Two spots of colour seeped into Kate Norbery’s sallow complexion, and her lacklustre eyes erupted sheer malevolence.

“You…” she shrieked. “It should have been you who died, not Matthew.”

Charlie recoiled back to the door in horror, but Joshua took the full force of the venom that spewed from her lips. He stood, rooted to the spot, until Martha the nurse took his arm and drew him back.

“Master Joshua,” she said, “it’s no good you trying to comfort her. She doesn’t want you – or your father here.”

He looked bewildered.

“Aunt Jane said that, but I thought, just for once it might help. I’m sorry, I won’t come again.” He left the room without a backward glance, to where Charlie waited outside the door.

When he spoke, there was raw grief in his voice. “Do you see how impossible things are, Charlie? I hoped to get away from here, and live a normal life. Now he’s dead, I’ll have to stay and be duty-bound to look after her for as long as she lives – and every day, I’ll know she hates me.”

Even allowing for grief, how could a mother say that to her remaining son? It was hard, but Charlie finally understood what afflicted his friend. Whereas he would have given anything to see his mother again, he knew that in Joshua’s case things were different.

It did not take many weeks for the mood at Linmore to lighten. The house was still in mourning, but with Matthew Norbery gone, the servants started to walk with a spring in their step. Maidservants that he molested dared to smile again. It was no wonder they welcomed Joshua home, for he had long been their favourite, and was now in his rightful place as heir.

Charlie watched the tentative steps Joshua made towards acceptance of his position, but no one else knew what it cost him to hide his frustration.

Well, maybe Aunt Jane did, for she was the one to welcome them into her sitting room to take afternoon tea. Charlie liked going there. It was a homely place, simply furnished with a chaise longue and armchairs set around the fire, and a little table to one side from which she dispensed the tea.

When Uncle Tom returned to Linmore, he joined them. It was a real family feeling, a sense of being together, which reminded Charlie of the special time he spent with his parents before Sophie was born.

After they related some of their adventures, Aunt Jane told them about the events surrounding Matthew Norbery’s demise. She sounded weary, but was remarkably detached, and Charlie honoured her for the honesty of not pretending sentiments towards someone whom no one but his mother liked.