The Camberwell Raid (17 page)

The doors in the central gable opened to the movements of a manservant, and a woman stepped out to slowly descend the terrace steps. She was tall and thin, with a mass of dark hair. Over her brown dress she wore a light brown cardigan, which Rosie thought very odd. It destroyed elegance. The woman advanced, and Major Armitage went to meet her.

‘The girl is here, Charles?’ she said in a deep throaty voice.

‘With her brother and sister,’ he said. ‘Come and meet them.’ She walked with him, her movements delicate and deliberate. Her face was thin, though her lips were full, her skin slightly mottled, and her
hazel
eyes a little glassy. Major Armitage introduced the young people to her. Her smile for Eloise was one that appeared, flickered briefly and was gone. That which she bestowed on Tim, a personable boy, fixed itself in such a way that Rosie thought her parted lips could not relax. However, they did. Then, as Rosie herself was introduced, the slightly glassy eyes took her in, and she spoke, huskily.

‘So this is our daughter, Charles.’

The surprised eyes of the young people made Major Armitage say quickly, ‘My daughter, your stepdaughter.’

‘How lovely she is,’ said Mrs Armitage. ‘Bring her in, Charles. The others may go.’

‘Pardon?’ said Tim.

‘Is there a misunderstanding?’ asked Rosie.

‘No, you may stay, my dear,’ said Mrs Armitage, ‘but we have no need of the others, whoever they are. Carter will drive them to the station. Come, my husband and I will show you Headleigh Hall, and where we shall accommodate you.’ She was throatier, huskier. ‘A beautiful suite of rooms.’

‘Slow down, Pauline,’ said Major Armitage, a little edge to his voice, ‘you’re running ahead of events. Order some coffee for our guests, some refreshments. It’s been a long drive.’

‘Refreshments?’ Mrs Armitage ran the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip. ‘Yes, of course.’ She turned, took two paces and stumbled. It was Rosie who darted and prevented her from falling. Major Armitage, looking more put out than concerned, nevertheless reached his wife’s side and put an arm around her.

‘I shouldn’t have let her leave her bed,’ he said
to
Rosie. ‘Her condition varies, you know, but today she insisted she was well enough to get up and meet you. She was keen to do so. If you’ll excuse me for a few minutes, I’ll see to her.’

‘I’m quite all right,’ said Mrs Armitage, pushing at him. But her face looked distorted, as if she was fighting pain. It wasn’t so much pain, however, it was a need for brandy, the tipple to which she was incurably addicted. She’d made her effort, because of Rosie, but she had no staying power.

Major Armitage took her up the terrace steps and into the house, Rosie following along with Eloise and Tim, Eloise thinking she knew what was wrong with Mrs Armitage, the same thing that had been wrong with the brother of her Uncle Jacques. Alcohol.

The manservant reappeared and, at a nod from Major Armitage, took the guests into a drawing-room, where colour, framed paintings and exquisite furniture leapt to dazzle the eye. The floor was almost fully covered by a hunting carpet, and above the marble fireplace was a gilt Chippendale overmantle whose several mirrors flashed light.

‘Please be seated,’ said the manservant, ‘and I’ll bring refreshments.’ He was a very dignified character, and made his exit in almost lordly fashion.

‘Bet you a bob he’s the butler, Rosie,’ said Tim.

‘Ah, an English butler,’ said Eloise, ‘’ow grand. But poor Madame Armitage, so ill, isn’t she?’

‘She seemed very weak,’ said Rosie.

‘She flopped,’ said Tim. ‘Lucky you caught her, Rosie. But did you hear her telling me and Eloise to push off? What a queer old bird.’

‘She cannot ’elp it,’ said Eloise, ‘but I was amazed. Such a strange-looking wife for such a handsome
man
, yes? Oh, but see this room, isn’t it
enchante
? They are aristocrats, yes. Imagine, your father an aristocrat, Rosie. Ah, you are one also because of your birth.’

‘My birth doesn’t make me feel I belong to this place,’ said Rosie quietly. ‘Once and for all, Eloise, I am an Adams, and you must understand that, sister dear, or we shall fall out.’

‘Oh, but—’

‘You are an Adams too,’ said Rosie, ‘and usually no Adams falls out with another. Our grandma doesn’t allow it, and will speak her mind if it happens.’

‘I’ll be the one to get it in the neck if you two quarrel,’ said Tim. ‘Grandma always blames the one that’s wearing trousers. Crikey, though, is there anything grander than this place except Buckingham Palace?’

‘I am astonished,’ said Eloise, ‘but I did not mean to upset you, Rosie.’

‘Oh, all over,’ smiled Rosie, and Major Armitage entered the room then.

‘My apologies,’ he said. ‘So sorry my wife had one of her turns.’ He had put her to bed with a weak brandy and soda, brandy being the only refreshment her mind had been on. He had, however, taken the bottle away, although he knew it was quite possible she had another cunningly hidden somewhere. He was angry with himself for having taken the risk of letting her meet Rosie, but she had insisted she must, that she would be quite capable. He might have known she wouldn’t be. ‘What, no refreshments yet?’

‘They’re here, sir,’ said the manservant, reappearing again. He advanced carrying a large silver
tray
on which there were biscuits, coffee, sherry and lemonade, together with cups, saucers, small plates, jugs and glasses. He placed the tray on a low rosewood table that stood in front of the fireplace.

‘Now,’ said Major Armitage, ‘who’d like coffee, who’d like sherry and who’d like the cook’s first-class lemonade?’

‘Coffee, if you please,’ said Eloise, her tiny hat, a Juliet cap, sitting neatly on her brown hair. Rosie, crowned with a round navy blue hat, smiled at their host.

‘Yes, coffee for me too, please,’ she said.

‘I think I’ll have a sherry,’ said Tim.

‘You mean a glass of the cook’s lemonade,’ smiled Rosie.

‘Oh, one or the other, I don’t mind,’ said Tim airily.

‘I’ll see to them, Martin,’ said Major Armitage.

‘Very good, sir,’ said the manservant, and left.

Major Armitage poured the coffee. Eloise asked for hers to be black. Rosie asked for a dash of milk with hers.

‘Or cream?’ smiled Major Armitage.

‘Well, cream, well, I’m blessed,’ said Tim, ‘there’s a new song out, “You’re The Cream In My Coffee”.’

‘Oh, then let’s go along with the song,’ said Rosie.

Rosie and Eloise received their coffee, and Tim was given a glass of lemonade. Major Armitage poured himself coffee with just a little milk, and sat down with his guests around the table. He offered the biscuits, which weren’t refused. He took one himself, since they were the cook’s own shortbread recipe.

‘A little something to keep us all going until
lunch
at one,’ he said, then spoke about his estate and what there was to see, the gardens, the parkland, a wood in which pheasants might be spotted, the stables and a dairy farm. Tim asked questions about everything in the manner of a naturally interested boy, and Eloise asked questions in the manner of a very intrigued young lady. Rosie asked no questions at all. She was taking in Major Armitage’s attitude and making a gradual assessment of the very pleasant gentleman. She felt there was far more to him than civilities, there had to be when one realized he had this magnificent manor house and its large estate to run. But just for himself and his wife, a place like this? No sons or daughters, except herself? It was understandable, his wish to have her under his roof. She did ask one question eventually.

‘Are you your father’s heir, Major Armitage?’

A little sigh escaped him at her formal use of his name and rank, but his pleasant smile followed. He was prepared to exercise a great deal of patience with his striking daughter.

‘Yes, as my father’s eldest son, I shall inherit,’ he said.

‘And you’ll be Sir Charles Armitage then?’ said Rosie.

‘Yes, the title’s hereditary,’ said Major Armitage, at which Eloise looked more intrigued and Tim blinked.

‘How very nice for you,’ smiled Rosie.

Ah, thought Eloise, she is impressed.

Crikey, thought Tim, that’s something to tell the family.

‘Would you all like to be shown around the house?’ asked Major Armitage. ‘There’ll be time
before
lunch, and this afternoon I’ll take you over the estate.’

‘Eloise and Tim would love to see the house,’ said Rosie. ‘Myself, I should like to talk to you.’

Major Armitage felt then that whatever was in her mind it was in his favour.

‘I’d be very happy about a talk, Rosie,’ he said, ‘and I’ll get Martin to take Tim and Eloise on a tour of the house.’

‘Excuse me, sir,’ said Tim, ‘is Mr Martin your butler?’

‘Yes,’ said Major Armitage.

‘First time I’ve met a butler,’ said Tim.

‘Butlers are an invaluable species, Tim. At least, good ones are.’ Major Armitage got up and rang for Martin. The dignified manservant, middle-aged, was not long in presenting himself.

‘You rang, sir?’ he said, and Major Armitage asked if he would be good enough to show Tim and Eloise around the house. ‘A pleasure, sir,’ said Martin, and stood at the open door waiting for the boy and the young lady in question to join him there.

‘You’ll be all right, Rosie?’ said Tim, coming to his feet along with Eloise.

‘Yes, of course, Tim,’ said Rosie.

‘I assure you, I won’t eat her,’ smiled Major Armitage, and Tim and Eloise left in company with the stately butler. The door closed behind them. ‘May I now tell you what an exceptional pleasure it is to have you here, Rosie?’ said Major Armitage.

‘All three of us?’ said Rosie.

‘I meant you particularly.’

‘I do understand how you feel,’ said Rosie, ‘and
I’m
sorry, of course, that your wife has been unable to give you children. Major Armitage, do—’

‘Must you call me that, Rosie?’

‘I really don’t feel I can call you father,’ said Rosie. ‘Never mind, worse things happen, don’t they? Anyway, do you have a solicitor?’

‘A solicitor?’ Major Armitage looked hard at her. Rosie smiled. ‘Rosie, are you going to suggest I should do something about establishing a father’s claim on you?’

‘Heavens, no, nothing of the kind,’ said Rosie. ‘You have a solicitor, yes, of course you have, a family solicitor, I daresay. Have you spoken to him about me?’

‘Frankly, yes,’ said Major Armitage.

‘You’ve asked him, perhaps, if you have a chance of setting my adoption aside?’

‘I asked him for counsel’s opinion.’

‘Someone who would make a case for you in a civil court?’ enquired Rosie.

‘Having met you, I don’t think I can be blamed for wanting you under my roof,’ said Major Armitage.

‘That’s a little absurd, though, isn’t it?’ said Rosie. ‘You’ve managed without me for nineteen years.’

‘Only because I knew nothing of your existence,’ said Major Armitage, keeping quiet about counsel’s opinion.

‘I didn’t mean that unkindly,’ said Rosie, ‘but the fact is, if you hadn’t found out about me it wouldn’t have seriously mattered, would it? What one has never had or never known, one can’t miss, isn’t that true?’

By God, thought Major Armitage, does any young woman have as much composure as this one?

‘True, yes,’ he said, ‘but I did find out.’

‘So you’ve been consulting your solicitor in the hope of establishing a legal claim on me, and in the further hope that that would persuade me to live here, at Headleigh Hall?’ said Rosie.

‘I won’t deny it.’

‘Well, I’m going to ask you not to proceed,’ said Rosie. ‘You see, if you take any steps, any steps at all, that will mean my adoptive parents having to go to court to fight you, you will never see me again. I don’t wish them to have those kind of worries. I think perhaps you feel you could have the adoption set aside, and then be able to make me leave my family and live here. But I don’t think the adoption could be set aside.’

‘Rosie, no, I haven’t thought of making you do that,’ said Major Armitage, ‘I’ve only thought I’d like the chance to have you living here some part of each year.’

‘In the hope of turning me into an Armitage?’ said Rosie.

‘You are an Armitage, I swear it.’

‘All my happiness has come from being an Adams,’ said Rosie. ‘It really would be useless to fight my adoption in court, for I’m sure it would never work, and in any case, there is no way you could compel me to live here for even a week if I didn’t want to. I have to tell you a second time, you would never see me again. As it is, if you’ll leave things as they are, I will promise to visit you four times a year.’

‘That would be the sum total of our relationship, four daily visits from you a year?’ said Major Armitage.

‘The sum total before was nothing,’ said Rosie.

‘By God, Rosie, you argue your case like the very devil,’ said Major Armitage. He knew, of course, he had no case himself.

‘I simply don’t wish to have you fight my adoptive parents,’ said Rosie. ‘They’ve given me too much for me not to fight for them, to ensure they have no worries.’

‘Are you so very attached to them?’ asked Major Armitage.

‘More than you perhaps will ever realize, much more,’ said Rosie.

‘Well, the last thing I want is to be left completely out in the cold,’ said Major Armitage, ‘and must settle for seeing you four times a year. Would you agree, however, to us writing to each other?’

‘I always answer any letters I receive,’ said Rosie. ‘You’re very likeable, you know, and I’m pleased about that.’

‘I shall follow your career with great interest,’ said Major Armitage, ‘and will always offer any help you may need.’

‘It’s agreed, then, you’ll instruct your solicitor to take no further action?’ said Rosie.

Major Armitage smiled wryly.

‘It’s agreed,’ he said. ‘By heaven, what a splendid young woman you are, Rosie. I shall always regret not knowing of your birth.’

‘Would you, then, have married my mother?’ asked Rosie.

‘I’m not sure I can answer that,’ said Major Armitage.

‘Well, I shan’t press you to,’ said Rosie, certain he would have thought twice about marrying the shallow woman who had been her mother. In any
case
, if she had been given the power to change things, she would have changed nothing that had happened to her since the days when, as a little girl, she had first come to know Boots. ‘We can call ourselves friends now, can’t we?’