Brothers at Arms (57 page)

They met for another dance, followed by refreshments. Melissa was in her element, piling up her plate with lobster patties and sweet cakes. Joshua counted three of each type, and realised that the excitement of the moment had made her feel hungry.

“Do you know,” she said in a low voice. “I’ve never met a rake before. You are not quite what I imagined, but I suppose there are all sorts.”

Joshua almost choked on his drink of fruit punch. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Melissa, but I… am… not… a… rake.” He mouthed the words.

“No, of course you’re not,” she said, soothingly, “but I hope you don’t mind if I pretend when I go back to school. Nothing exciting ever happens to me, whereas everyone knows you have been on the Grand Tour to Italy.”

It was obvious that lack of excitement was the real reason why Melissa disobeyed her father and wore breeches to groom her horse. It was lucky for everyone that she wasn’t caught out. Maybe girls weren’t so different after all.

Outwardly, people gave the impression of having forgotten the incident, but Joshua knew it was already circulating as the latest on-dit. He hoped the news would not reach Holkham. That was the last thing he needed.

Who would have thought he would meet Charlie Cobarne on a visit to Kings Lynn? Where could he go to avoid him?

The visit to a bone mill at Narborough was the perfect antidote for the disastrous weekend at Lynn. It started well, with Michael Gransden driving James in his gig, and Joshua riding his horse. Michael’s parents welcomed them into the family circle, and the bonhomie continued until they visited the local assembly rooms. Then it went horribly wrong, and once again, a woman rescued Joshua. If he were not careful, it would become a habit.

The vile stench of boiling bones that assailed his nostrils was nothing to the accusation of having ravished a young woman. Joshua would have accepted the charge had it been true, or the female in question been anyone but Sophie Cobarne. The only thing for which she qualified was being young, but a lady she certainly was not.

Joshua stood watching the process of skimming fat from the boiling liquid.

“What will that be used for?” he asked.

“Grease for coaches and cartwheels,” came the reply.

“So nothing is wasted,” he said. “What happens to the bones now?”

“They be chopped up and then ground down smaller and milled into dust.” The whole process sounded so simple.

The same man told him that when whaleboats came into Lynn, there was a constant supply of barges loaded with bones, on the River Nar between the blubber factory at Lynn and the Narborough bone mill.

Having watched the process, Joshua moved on to the Narborough bone shed to collect a cartload of bonemeal in bags for the Home Farm at Holkham.

He rode his horse back at the pace of the rambling cart, with his mind turning to the sound of cartwheels. When it was dry, his thoughts reflected the spring weather, with happy memories of his stay at Holkham.

Luckily, the rain held off until they were halfway home. Joshua’s waterproof coat seemed too warm to wear. Then the April storms came from nowhere, sharp, sudden and drenching, and his clothes were wet before he could find sufficient shelter to don his cape.

The driver carried on regardless. He was well prepared with a broad brimmed hat, waterproof cape, and the cartload covered with sheeting.

After that, Joshua pressed his hat firmly on his head and endured the discomfort of the over-garment, for no sooner did he think to remove the coat than he needed it again. Underneath it all, his jacket and shirt were damp, but he was hot, so they would probably steam dry by the time he returned home, and smell abominably.

He rode on, cursing the fact that in Norfolk the rain fell sideways. He felt miserably uncomfortable, and his thoughts turned sour, trying to find an apt description to fit Sophie Cobarne’s behaviour.

She was a
harlot, baggage, strumpet and wanton.
His mind continued its search –
trollop, hussy, slut, whore…
There were not enough words in the Lexicon, and it did not make him feel any better.

Whatever precipitated her action, Joshua knew he had not encouraged her to think it was welcome. Now, he was in the devil’s own coil. According to her brother, she had delivered a child. It was obvious Charlie blamed him for her condition, whereas Joshua knew that it was not his, but to whom else might it belong? That was the unknown factor.

Things were not the same after the visit to Lynn. Although Joshua met his fellow students, there was an edge to Michael Gransden’s civility, and he spoke only when it was necessary.

Joshua could not blame him. Charlie had poisoned their minds. He tried not to let it bother him. In a few more weeks, he would be going home to Linmore. First, he must ascertain the date of departure and make travel arrangements.

The visit to Egmere farm could not have come at a better time. Mr Danby was a tenant farmer, with the reputation of running the best four-course-rotation on the estate. Although Egmere was only a few miles from Holkham, Joshua lived for three weeks in the farmhouse with the farmer and his family. It was a welcome relief.

On the first weekend, he rode his horse to the nearest fishing village. He took care to avoid the cottages by the harbour, and set off to walk across the mile-long sea wall, built by the Holkham estate when they reclaimed the salt marshes from the sea.

Everything must have looked different then. There would have been no pasture meadows within the wall, and the harbour would have been on the sea front, instead of being a mile inland along a well-dredged channel, dependent on the tides. An effect caused by the silted bay.

At the beginning of May, he travelled to Holkham to join what he anticipated would be his last group meeting in the estate office. Michael and James were civil to him in Mr Blakeney’s presence, but the atmosphere was strained when the agent asked him to discuss his findings at Egmere.

Joshua did so with pleasure. He had spent many hours exchanging viewpoints with the workers of an enlightened tenant farmer, and came away enriched by the experience. He did not need the approval of his colleagues. The agent understood his reasons for so doing, and on a previous occasion, Mr Coke told them of the time when he joined the workers in the woodland, and learned a great deal about the woodsman’s lot. That was all the endorsement he needed.

As the meeting ended, Mr Blakeney turned to Joshua.

“I have received a letter from Mr Coke, telling me that he has agreed with your father for you to remain here until July. Mr Norbery will be coming to the sheep shearings, so it seems an appropriate time for you to complete your studies.”

“Thank you, sir.” Joshua could see the looks of astonishment darting between his fellow students. So apparently could the agent.

“Does your father know Mr Coke socially?” Michael could not forbear to ask.

Before Joshua could speak, the agent interceded. “Yes, indeed. Mr Thomas Norbery is a parliamentary representative for the county of Shropshire.”

Michael Gransden’s eyes widened as the implication dawned.

“Oh, I didn’t know – nor did James. That’s excellent news, Joshua,” he babbled. “I mean, it will be splendid having you here for longer. I must tell my father. He is sure to be coming in July, and will want to meet him.”

It seemed strange that a few days ago, Joshua was virtually a pariah, and now, because of his father’s political connections, he was socially acceptable.

“Yes,” he said with a wry smile. “I’ll be sure to introduce them.”

In June, they heard news that obscured everything else. There was joy and celebration in the air. Church bells rang out, announcing the war in Europe was over, and everyone knew of the signing of the Peace Treaty at Amiens.

The discovery of Joshua’s connections so changed Michael Gransden’s demeanour, he could not wait to issue the next invitation.

“Let me know when you next come to the shearings, Joshua. You must stay with us at Lynn, and I’ll travel to Holkham with you.”

It was one thing for Joshua to be the son of an obscure country squire, but for Mr Coke to acknowledge his father was another. Life was indeed strange.

“You made quite an impression on the ladies,” Michael said. “Mother would be very happy to see you again, and Melissa hasn’t stopped talking about you either. She’s apparently told her friends, and they all want to meet you.”

Joshua returned a non-committal answer. He could imagine Melissa’s reason for the invitation, particularly after their previous conversation. The trouble with visiting Kings Lynn was that he ran the risk of seeing Charlie Cobarne again.

Lady Gransden’s enthusiasm was something else. His life was complicated enough without being included in plans for her daughter’s future. Melissa was a nice girl, but she was too young to think of marriage. Joshua was glad that he confined his response to her tale of woe, to advice not action; otherwise he might have found himself leg-shackled to the entire family. He couldn’t imagine having a worse father-in-law than Sir John Gransden. His interference would be intolerable.

Holkham – July 1802

“Sir John’s here, Norbery, where’s your father?” Michael Gransden shouted as he climbed the stables staircase.

It was the final day of preparation before the opening that marked the Holkham sheep shearings. Sir John Gransden had travelled, as Michael took care to tell Joshua,
all the way from Kings Lynn
. What was a mere thirty miles compared to the distance from London that his father had to travel?

Joshua took an exasperated breath, choosing his words. “I showed you the note from Mr Coke last week, which said that my father would be here by tonight, Michael, and I’ve heard nothing to the contrary,” he said, hoping that there would be no more delays. If there were, he didn’t know how he would return to Linmore with his belongings, but that was his problem to solve.

“Just make sure that he’s here by the morning. Sir John is staying at the Ostrich, and is not best pleased at being kept waiting.”

And no doubt he was driving the landlord crazy with his incessant demands.

All the pent-up dislike that Joshua had felt about Michael Gransden’s father came welling to the surface and almost overflowed into anger. He stopped himself in time, knowing that in three days he need not see either Michael or his bombastic baronet of a father ever again. He felt sorry for Melissa with such relations, but they were not his concern. Nor would they ever be.

He took a deeper breath knowing it was anxiety he felt. The message he received, saying that the delay related to family business, was vague, so he assumed it must concern Aunt Winifred, his father’s sister.

It was lucky that Mr Blakeney kept him well occupied and out of Michael Gransden’s way, for the other boy’s usefulness, such as it was, ended when Sir John’s coach came trundling up the front drive to Holkham. And there was little to show for his presence before.

After a lone supper, Joshua saddled his horse and rode down to the beach for what he assumed would be the last time. It seemed like months since he had last been there, but the sight of the breakers rolling across the sand helped soothe his frayed nerves.

Ebb and flow…ebb and flow…ebb and flow… in a never-ending rhythm.

He was sorely tempted to kick off his boots and paddle in the water, but time was against him. Even in the hour since he left the stables his father might have arrived. At the thought he turned the horse, and sent it galloping up the drive.

The first groom that Joshua saw on reaching the stables was Ben Waters. “Is there any news?” he said as he threw himself out of the saddle.

“Not yet, Joshua, but we’ll let you know as soon as Mr Norbery arrives.”

“Thank you, Ben,” he said. “I’ll be leaving Holkham in a few days, but I’ll see you before I go.”

It was twilight when Joshua dragged his feet upstairs, and lay on his bed fully clad. All was quiet in the students’ end of the stable block but the grooms were busy dealing with all the extra horses and coaches belonging to the visitors staying at the Hall, one of which should have been his father.

He heard Michael and James come stamping up the wooden stairs just after the stable clock chimed eleven. Half an hour later, the sound of a coach and horses heralded the arrival of probably the last visitor of the day.

He stood up, ready to shed his clothes and get into bed, when there was a tap at the door and Kegworth’s quiet voice called, “Sorry to disturb you, Mr Joshua, but Mr Coke sent a message to say that your father has arrived at the Hall and will see you after breakfast.”

Joshua had hardly opened the door when Michael Gransden bellowed,

“What’s going on, Kegworth, that needs you to disturb us in the middle of the night?”

“Mr Norbery’s arrived, sir.”

“About time too; Sir John is waiting to meet him.”

Then he’ll have to wait like the rest of us until morning.

The valet looked at Joshua and shook his head.

“Thank you, Kegworth,” he said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“You can go to sleep now, sir,” said the valet.

Sleep was but a dream. The knowledge of his father’s arrival brought back a poignant memory from when Joshua was a lonely little boy, at the time he was bullied by his brother and his mother looked on laughing.

In those far-off days, Joshua had always known that he was safe when his father came home, but he hadn’t realised until the loss of his only friend, how much he needed the comfort of his father’s presence. He felt it now.

Determined not to waste a single moment of the day, Joshua rose with the dawn chorus just after four, and took advantage of the hot water for shaving that Kegworth brought upstairs. He strode out of the stables and across to Holkham Hall for breakfast before Michael Gransden opened his eyes. There was a glorious sunrise over the sea. The air was fresh and all was well in his world.

Having eaten his fill, Joshua hurried above stairs to the big dining room where the visitors and guests were taking breakfast. A room with much coming and going, of talking and laughter with servants refilling the heated trays on the sideboards, and too much noise for private conversation.