The Reckoning (23 page)

‘
No, I know. I'm sorry. But he was right – it was all a
waste, such a waste.’

She and Moineau faced each other across the ruins of an
English breakfast-table, and mourned together, for the
brother she had never had the chance to know, and for the long-lost country of their childhood. France, their France,
was gone, and gone for ever.

*

’Now you have told me, will you go on?' she asked him later
when they were walking in the rose-garden. Last night's rain
had battered the petals from the full-blown flowers, but the
half-opened blooms were fresh and glistening with fat
diamond drops which intensified their colour and texture.

‘I have done what I came to do,' he said neutrally.

‘But where will you go next?'

‘I don't know. I had made no plans.’

They walked on, leaving the path to make a dark trail
through the silver of the wet grass. Above them the grey
clouds rolled thoughtfully, as though contemplating further
mischief; the air was damp and prickling with threatened
rain. They went through the gap in the hedge and came out
on the bank of the moat, where two of the swans were
standing grooming themselves, their straight black legs
somehow surprising, emerging from the smooth white hulls of
their bodies. They eyed the humans speculatively for a
moment, and then went on with their preening; small
discarded feathers lay about them like snow-flakes on the
grass.

‘
Beautiful!' Moineau looked at the rosy brick of the house
reflected in the grey, disturbed water. 'It looks so timeless,' he
said. 'It is a good place. You must be very happy here.'

‘
Yes,' she said. 'I still find it hard to believe that it's mine.
But of course in a sense it is not – I am only the guardian, for
the generations to come. What I love was taken from those
who loved it in other days.'

‘That is a good way to feel. I would like to know your
history, and how you came to be mistress of this fairy-tale
castle. It must be a fascinating tale.'

‘
It is a long one,' she said, looking at him. 'I wish there were
time to tell it to you. But if you have to be leaving us –'
He smiled invitingly, but said nothing.

‘
Do you have to leave us?' she asked. 'There is a place here
which seems almost providentially designed for you to fill.
Our chaplain-tutor left suddenly, as I told you, and his many
duties are left undone. We might almost have been waiting
for you to arrive. You are a priest, and you have been tutor to
a prince's sons, so you said. The children love you already,
and I –' she paused.

‘Yes?' he asked teasingly.

She smiled. 'I should like to have you as my personal chap
lain. Will you take the post? Will you stay?’

It seemed almost too good to be true, but she knew already
what his answer would be.

‘Yes,' he said.

 
Apart from her visit to Brussels the year before, Rosamund
had travelled very little in her life, and always in her mother's
carriage with either her mother or governess in command. So her trip to Yorkshire, travelling post and accompanied by her
maid, had been a delight to her, with all the excitement of
staying at post-houses, ordering her own meals and making
her own decisions.

And even with the sadness of her holiday's being over, and
having to say goodbye to Sophie without knowing when they
might meet again, there was still the journey home to look
forward to. It was a sort of compensation, though she feared
she would not be quite as autonomous as on the way up from
Town: her mother had sent Parslow for her.

‘
She must really be anxious to have you back,' James
smiled, 'if she's willing to be without him for the best part of a
week. I suppose she thought no-one else could persuade you
to come back.'

‘
It's on account of the unrest in Nottinghamshire, and all
the strange people on the roads,' Rosamund said.

‘
She is very right,' Héloïse said. 'Not that I think you will be
in the least danger,' she added hastily, 'but you are very
young to travel only with a maid, especially as you will be two
nights on the road.’

James eyed his niece with amusement. 'But try not to let it
spoil your fun, all the same.’

Rosamund laughed. 'I won't. I like old Parslow – he's a
right 'un.’

The parting was sad, though Rosamund had had the satis
faction of seeing Sophie restored to the bosom of her family,
and witnessing her high glee as she rushed about the house as
though she were half her age, romping with her brothers and
the dogs and greeting every servant from the highest to the
lowest with a hug. Monsieur Barnard, who adored her second
only to Héloïse, clutched her to his apron as though she were
his own child and planted floury kisses on her head; and no-
one but Sophie could have got away with kissing Ottershaw,
who had modelled himself on the stately Chelmsford butler,
Hawkins, and had dedicated a lifetime to out-Caesaring
Caesar.

Rosamund watched all this with delight, and was glad to
see how Sophie had been missed, and how happy she was to
be home. It was a very different household, she thought with
the faintest wistfulness, from the one she was returning to;
and it was possible to see how Sophie might be content, for a
time at least, simply to 'stay at home with Mama and Papa
and the boys' as if she had never been betrothed and on the
point of marriage.

At last the boxes were all strapped onto Lucy's chaise,
Parslow had inspected the post-boys and horses to his satis
faction, the farewells had all been said, and Rosamund, in her
smart blue travelling-dress, a neat carriage-hat and a huge
muff, stepped in and took her place. The post-boys cracked
their whips, everyone waved madly, and then they were
passing out under the barbican and her holiday in Yorkshire
was over. Now it's back to real life, she thought with a sigh.

Parslow heard the sigh and caught her eye sympathetically.
‘I hope you've had an agreeable time, my lady?'

‘Yes, thank you. I'm sorry to leave.'

‘
Her ladyship is very anxious to have you back, however,'
Parslow said encouragingly.

‘
I can't think what for,' Rosamund grumbled a little. There
were some wonderful horses at Twelvetrees she had looked
forward to trying, and Uncle James had said he could arrange
for her to have a gallop round the Knavesmire race-course
one day.

It wasn't for Parslow to tell her that Lucy missed her; so he said, 'Her ladyship is planning a large party at Wolvercote for
the summer, and she needs you to help entertain, my lady.'

‘
A large party?' Rosamund said, brightening. That sounded
better than just their dull selves.

Tor when Lord Aylesbury comes home, my lady. Her lady
ship thinks it's time to introduce him into society.'

‘
Ah,' said Rosamund, seeing much more of the picture. Her
brother was so painfully shy and awkward, that it would
obviously be better to keep him at Wolvercote and introduce selected people into his world, where he felt relatively safe, rather than to pitch him head first into the outside world and
let him sink or swim on his own. Such a degree of tenderness
towards Aylesbury did not seem much like her mother,
however. Was it Papa Danby's idea?' she asked bluntly.

‘
I believe so, my lady,' Parslow said, straight-faced. 'I
understand his lordship said he would never have got over the
first fence himself at that age, if he had not been so fortunate
as to be riding stirrup-to-stirrup with Mr Brummell.’

Rosamund laughed. 'That's like him! And how they must
miss poor Mr Brummell, too. He was always very kind to me,
despite my freckles. What else has happened since I went
away?'

‘
His lordship's man has left, my lady, after a slight contre
temps.'

‘
Oh good. I never liked Deacon — sour creature! But what
will Papa Danby do without him?'

‘
Bird is attending to his lordship's needs at present, my lady. It seems possible that he may take on the position of
valet permanently, and that a new groom will be appointed.'

‘Good idea. What else?'

‘
I believe her ladyship has had a letter from Mrs Firth in
Vienna, my lady. And Mr and Mrs Robert Knaresborough are celebrating another increase to their family —'

‘Another? That's five in six years!'

‘And the kitchen cat's had kittens.'

‘Which one?'

‘
The ginger tabby, my lady. The one Mrs Docwra calls
Marmalade.'

‘
Well, that caps the globe, as she says! I thought it was a
tom-cat.'

‘
So did Docwra,' Parslow said, unmasking for an instant. 'I
think the cat was rather surprised too.’

She met Parslow's eyes, and felt a rush of affection for
him. He had been there all her life, a permanent figure in her
rapidly-changing background, and more of a father to her, in
many ways, than anyone else had been. Yet she knew very
little about him — not even where he came from, or what he
had done before entering her mother's service. She didn't
even know what his first name was. Perhaps, she thought with a smile, he didn't have one.

His eyes returned the smile, and then, perhaps thinking
that the unmasking had gone far enough, in a closed carriage
and with Judy Moss as witness, he turned his head politely to
look out of the window and give her the privacy of her own
thoughts.

She could have done without the courtesy, for her own
thoughts were little satisfaction to her. She had enjoyed her
holiday and Sophie's company, but she was not pleased to be returning home as unattached as she went away, to face the
consequences. Farraline had disappointed. Oh, not in himself:
the more she had seen of him, the more she liked him; his
company stimulated, his ideas intrigued, and his person
attracted her strongly. But though he had sought her out on
every occasion, she had begun to doubt some time before she
left that he meant anything serious by it.