Brothers at Arms (60 page)

“What happens about the army at such times? Do they go home?”

Having read Lady Gransden’s letter, Tom guessed that Joshua was wondering about Charlie’s whereabouts in Europe and the likelihood of them meeting.

“Sergeant Percival will know,” he said. “We’ll ask him when we see him in London. He awaits us at Cavendish Square, and will accompany us to Paris.”

“How is he?” said Joshua. “It will be good to see him again.”

“He is extremely well since his marriage and becoming the father of a daughter.”

Joshua looked astounded. “But when did he marry – and to whom?

“It was about the time that you went to Holkham. He had lodged in the village for several months, next door to Dr Hawley, and came to an understanding with Miss Belinda, who is now Mrs Percival. Her brother gave them his blessing.”

“I’m glad for them,” said Joshua, “Gilbert told us about their previous connection and the reason for the rift between them. He said that Percival was a base-born son of Lord Chetton, of Neathwood.”

“Don’t despise Percival for that,” said Tom, “for every family has a bastard in it somewhere. We certainly did at Linmore, though not of my making.”

“Matthew said that I was a misbegotten brat,” Joshua said in a tight voice, “but Fred Cardington told me that it was my brother who was the cuckoo in the nest.”

“Frederick was right,” said Tom, “but you need to understand how I came to be married to Kate.” There seemed little point in calling her his wife.

“I returned from my Grand Tour in the summer of ’seventy five. A few months prior to that, Aunt Jane’s father died, leaving his wife and family in debt. My father purchased the Hillend Estate to help the widow.

“I became aware of the situation, when I accompanied my father and brother to visit the bereaved ladies, but had little idea that he, who had been widowed a dozen years, considered marrying the lady. I learned of this when she died, within the bereavement year, and left three daughters without a female relation to act as chaperone. That meant my father couldn’t give them a home, so he ordered me to marry one of them.”

“Did you know Aunt Jane before that?” said Joshua.

“Yes, but she was still in the schoolroom when Jack and I went away on our travels. Seeing her again, the choice was easy, but as we were both under age, I was compelled to wed another. Marriage to Jane would have served the family as well, but Elias Stretton, who purported to be guardian to the Littlemore sisters, refused permission. The reason became apparent when Matthew was born six-months later. Kate had needed a husband, and I, as the heir to Linmore, was the sacrificial lamb.”

“What did your father… my grandfather say when he knew?” said Joshua.

“Rather than admit his complicity in foisting a bastard on Linmore, he tried to make me own Matthew as my son. When I refused, he blustered about annulment, but did nothing because of the scandal it would cause.” Tom said in disgust, recalling the acrimony of an estrangement that had never been resolved.

After a few moments silence, in which he composed himself, Tom resumed the conversation in a different tone. “We were, however, speaking of Sergeant Percival and the old Lord Chetton, who died shortly after you returned from Italy.”

“Did Percy know of this?” said Joshua.

“Yes,” Tom said. “Jim Percival visited the sixth Viscount at Neathwood, a few days before he died, whilst the Honourable Robert Chetton was in London, gambling away what remained of his inheritance. One might say that the old gentleman had been waiting for such a visit, for it is said he died happy
.
I’m not privy to the details, but I understand that he gave Percival sufficient means to be independent of work although he continues to assist me at Linmore. That was why he could afford to marry. And now, his half-brother, the new Viscount, has also married.”

“There must be something in the Linmore air,” Joshua said.

“Robert Chetton had little choice in the matter, but I will tell you more of this over dinner. I think that we are on the approaches to Thetford.”

The discussion gave Tom pause for thought. In the space of a few hours, he had told Joshua some of the Linmore family secrets, and learned of two different ladies of his son’s acquaintance. One was a baronet’s daughter, scarcely out of the schoolroom, and Lady Rosemary Chervil, whose connection with Joshua was infinitely more intriguing.

It was quite common for a young man to form a tendre for an older woman, but Lord Kenchester’s daughter was not a member of the muslin company, which put a different complexion on the matter. Joshua was too young at present to think of marriage, but as the last of the Norbery line, it could not be long delayed.

There were aspects about Joshua’s tour that Tom had overlooked in the aftermath of Matthew’s death. Things he should have discussed with Sergeant Percival. Now he must tentatively raise the subject with his son without obviously prying.

Whereas, Miss Gransden’s name had aroused no great response, the mention of Lady Rosemary brought an immediate reaction that suggested his son’s feelings were involved. Why else would he have written her a letter, even if he was shy of sending it?

Unfamiliar with the Thetford hostelries, Tom would not have been surprised to have difficulty in acquiring rooms, but the mention of Mr Coke’s name opened many doors and he had the feeling that other travellers might be incommoded. All he and Joshua required was a room each for the night and a tasty meal.

Instead he was given the best accommodation on offer, with a truckle bed for Jack Kilcot, who acted as valet, while Daniel Salter, the coachman, slept over the stables to look after the horses. Their presence reminded him of a journey to Ireland about which he could not speak with Joshua, for fear of breaking the spell.

A well-cooked dinner with courses of brown trout, capons and apple pie, followed by local cheeses and coffee took precedence over small talk, but sitting in a mellow atmosphere, induced by a particularly fine brandy, no doubt illicitly acquired from Gascony, Tom decided to return to the interrupted conversation about marriage.

There was no better time to discover Joshua’s opinion on the subject, but it was his son who pre-empted the discussion.

“Were you aware that Sophie Cobarne was intimate with Robert Chetton?” said Joshua, making the words sound like an insult.

Tom chose to ignore the inference and guided the conversation the way he intended that it should go. “I expect that they had much in common on the hunting field,” he said. “If you recall, he was another of the neck-or-nothing riders that she used to challenge over the hedges. His wife is a similarly accomplished horsewoman.”

Eliciting only a grunt from his son in response, Tom plunged into the details.

“Robert Chetton married an heiress from Ireland. Her guardian, who was his godfather, left his fortune and racing stud to her, absolutely, on condition that she accepted the arranged marriage. She would have been a foolish lady to have declined, and risked losing her inheritance.”

Tom had Joshua’s full attention now. The brandy glass sat on the table untouched.

“Is that what happens in such cases?” He was clearly appalled by the notion.

“Yes,” said Tom.

“What did Chetton have to say? He always seemed a care-for-nobody.”

“It seems that they have a mutual interest in breeding horses. Had he refused, he would have lost Neathwood Park, which was mortgaged to the hilt. Her money saved it, and in return she has a title.”

“So,” said Joshua, “an arranged marriage was to his liking?”

Hearing the distaste, Tom said, “In our circles, Joshua, such arrangements are commonplace. Or at least, they were in my day.”

“I’m not sure that would suit me,” his son said, shaking his head.

Seeing his opportunity, Tom said, “If you discover that you have a preference for a lady – and I do speak of someone of our class – then I hope that you will feel able to tell me.” He waited, seeing the secret smile playing on Joshua’s lips.

“You speak of a lady, sir…?”

Tom smiled his understanding. “I think we both know that none of the working classes would enhance the position of Mrs Norbery of Linmore.”

“Let us say of the gentry…or aristocracy?” Joshua persisted.

“If a lady of elevated birth was happy to live with you at Linmore – yes.”

“But I can make my own choice?”

“Of course,” said Tom. “You are well aware of the reason why I would never seek to influence your decision.”

“It’s unlikely to be for a year or two yet,” said Joshua, “for I have a great deal to organise on the estate, but I’d like to explore the options in my own way.”

“You may not choose to look locally for a bride. Go to London in the season and study the debutantes of the Marriage Mart.”

Joshua shuddered. “You mean Almack’s and all that sort of thing? I remember Caroline’s season and it was ghastly,” he said, “although it does have possibilities, for not all the ladies are straight out of the schoolroom. I mean, there are some who don’t
take
at the first or second season…”

“So I believe,” said Tom, reading between the lines, “and with you being young, maybe someone slightly older and wiser in the ways of the world would suit you better.”

“Mmm,” said Joshua, thoughtfully sipping his brandy. “Quite possibly…”

Tom went to bed happy, knowing that in having mooted the idea of marriage, he could see that Joshua was ready to give it his consideration. It was something to tell Jane on his return to Linmore.

He felt a deep sense of release in letting go the bitterness that he had carried for half his life. And the heartfelt joy of watching the dawning sense of understanding when Joshua realised that he was the legitimate heir to Linmore – and always had been.

There was more to tell his son, but it could wait until Jane was with them, for she was their strength and the reason for living.
Whereas he had been forced to accept a marriage of convenience, Tom knew that Jane would never allow it to happen to Joshua.

I could not have written this work of fiction without the patience of my family and friends who have shared the time I have spent in Linmore Dale, giving me support and reading endless drafts. My thanks, also, to Doug, my editor and mentor, who has likewise guided my efforts – but is not responsible for any errors.