скачать книгу бесплатно
‘Honour! Teddy, if you had any honour you would heed poor Papa, who has always done his best for you. He is not made of money, you know.’
‘So he told me.’ He heaved a sigh. ‘He suggests I find myself a rich wife, preferably a widow, old enough and independent enough to curb my excesses.’
Jane could not help laughing and was relieved to see a slight twitch of her brother’s lips in response. ‘He only said that because he was cross with you.’
‘He was in earnest, Jane.’
‘You do not like the idea?’
‘Oh, I like it well enough, always supposing the wealth came with a pretty face and figure. But where am I going to find such a one who’ll have me? Even if I did, it would take time and I haven’t got the time. Hector Bolsover wants his blunt.’
‘Oh, Teddy, what a mess you are in.’
‘I know. Can you help me out?’
‘Where do you think I can find so much money?’
‘You still have the bequest Aunt Matilda left you, haven’t you?’
‘That is meant to be my dowry.’
‘But, Jane, you are never going to marry, are you?’
Only a brother would be so blunt. It hurt, but she didn’t show it. ‘Maybe not, but I have other plans for my inheritance.’
‘More important than rescuing your only brother from the River Tick?’
She sighed heavily. She had a dream of opening an orphanage for some of the children of men lost in the recent war. The idea had come about when she had been in London the year before. She had seen some ragged, barefoot children running about the streets begging and when she spoke to one of them, to the dismay of her mother who had accompanied her, she was told a tale which made her heart bleed for him. His father had been killed in a battle in far-off Portugal, his mother had been forced into service where children were not welcome and because she was obliged to live in, she had to give up the tenancy of their two tiny rooms. He slept in doorways or under the trees in the park. ‘I do well enough,’ he told her, holding out his hand for money.
How many more were there like that? she had asked herself, how many children were there without homes, without adequate clothing and enough to eat? ‘Surely the government should do something about them,’ she had said to her mother, as they left the child clutching a sixpence. ‘Their fathers fought for king and country and that is how they are rewarded. It’s a disgrace.’
‘I do not see what we can do about it.’
‘We can speak to Sir Mortimer for a start.’ Sir Mortimer Belton was their local Member of Parliament. ‘If the problem is put to him, he might bring it up in Parliament. We could make a fuss, bring it to the public’s attention. Raise a subscription to provide the children with homes.’
‘Oh, dear,’ her mother had said. ‘That sounds like a crusade.’
And a crusade it had become, but trying to make the government move was like tickling a tortoise. Jane had decided that she must set an example—not on a grand scale, she could not afford that, but she could do something locally. A small boarding school for about a dozen orphans of soldiers in their own vicinity was what she had in mind. It might encourage others to do the same in their own localities. The five thousand pounds she had would not be enough and she had enlisted the help of the Rector, the Reverend Mr Henry Caulder and his wife, to raise funds. They had decided that the best way to do it was to find philanthropic sponsors. To encourage them, she would put her own money into the venture, she had told them. If she gave her inheritance to Teddy, it would put an end to her plans before they had even begun to take shape.
‘Can you not ask Lord Bolsover for more time, so that we can think of something?’ she queried.
‘You don’t know his lordship, or you wouldn’t even suggest it.’
‘If he is such an unpleasant man, why do you associate with him?’
‘He is in the group I play with.’
‘Teddy, you are a fool and I do not wonder that Papa is angry with you.’
‘Do you think you can bring him round? He always listens to you. I will be for ever in your debt.’
She laughed. ‘You are in enough debt without adding me to your list, Teddy, but I’ll see what I can do with Papa. Not tonight, though. Give him time to calm down. How long will you stay?’
‘I cannot show my face back in London until at least Bolsover is satisfied.’
‘But what about your position at Halliday’s?’
‘What position?’
Even the almost-unshockable Jane was taken aback by that. ‘Oh, Teddy, don’t say you have been dismissed? No wonder Papa is furious.’
‘He don’t know about that. Daren’t tell him. If you can’t help me, I will have to go abroad, the Indies or India or something.’
‘That will break Mama’s heart. And the disgrace will be hard to live down. And there’s Isabel’s wedding in a month’s time. What do you think Mark will say about a scandal like that hanging over the nuptials? Go away, Teddy, go and make yourself useful somewhere and let me think.’
He stood up and left her. Her thinking led her nowhere, except to the realisation that she would have to forfeit her inheritance. The thought of all those orphan children continuing to suffer because of her brother’s selfishness was more than she could bear. She had always been tolerant of Teddy’s foibles, but this time he had really angered her. If it were not for her mother’s distress and her sister’s wedding, she would let him stew.
* * *
‘If it isn’t Drew Ashton,’ Mark exclaimed when he saw his old friend striding towards him along Piccadilly. ‘Where have you sprung from? It’s years since I saw you.’
‘I’ve been in India, just arrived back.’
‘And looking very prosperous, I must say.’ Mark looked the other man up and down, taking in the perfectly fitting coat of clerical-grey superfine, the embroidered waistcoat, the diamond pin in his precisely tied cravat, the pearl-handled quizzing glass hanging on a chain from his neck, and the gold pocket watch. His trousers were strapped below his polished city shoes. ‘You didn’t used to be so elegant.’
‘I did pretty well out there. You don’t look so bad yourself. What have you been up to? How are your lady mother and Lord Wyndham?’
‘They are both well. As for me, I’ve been campaigning with Wellington. Came home after Waterloo and now about to be married. I’m in London to call on my lawyers about the finer points of the marriage settlement and to buy a suit of clothes for the wedding.’
‘You’ve time to join me for a meal at Grillon’s, surely.’
‘Yes, of course. Glad to.’
Mark turned back the way he had come and they walked a little way down the street to the hotel, where they were soon settled at a table and ordering food and wine.
‘Tell me,’ Mark said, while they waited for the repast to arrive. ‘Why the sudden urge to visit India? I recollect you left Broadacres in somewhat of a hurry. I hope it had nothing to do with Mama’s hospitality.’
‘No, certainly not. Lady Wyndham’s hospitality is of the best. She made me very welcome. It was a family matter that came up suddenly and had to be attended to. I did explain that at the time.’
‘So you did. I had forgot. So, what are you going to do now you are back in England?’
‘I am thinking of buying a share in a clipper and continuing to trade. It has served me well so far.’
‘Trade, Drew?’
‘Why not? I am not so top-lofty as to turn my nose up at a good way of making a fortune’. He stopped speaking as a waiter brought their pork chops, succulent and sizzling with fat, together with a large bowl of vegetables. They helped themselves and tucked in.
‘A nabob, are you?’ Mark queried. His friend certainly gave that impression. It was the only way he could have come by such finery without inherited wealth, which Mark knew he did not have.
‘You could say that. I went out with the intention of making a fortune and in that I succeeded. I am no longer the poor relation to be pitied because no young lady of any standing would consider me.’
‘I’m sure that isn’t true, Drew.’
‘Oh, it is, believe me. The young lady I wanted to marry turned her proud nose up at me. Not good enough, you see.’
Mark detected a note of bitterness in his old friend’s tone ‘There are plenty more fish in the sea.’
‘Indeed, yes, although, unlike you, I am in no hurry to become leg-shackled.’
‘I am not in a hurry. We have known each other since childhood.’
‘Tell me about her. Is she beautiful? Does she have a pleasing temperament?’
‘Yes, to both questions. You have met her, Drew. Her name is Isabel Cavenhurst.’
‘Cavenhurst!’
‘Yes, you sound surprised.’
‘No, no,’ Andrew said hastily. ‘I do remember the name. Don’t the Cavenhursts live close to Broadacres?’
‘Yes, on the other side of the village at Greystone Manor. We went there several times while you were staying with us. Surely you remember that?’
‘Yes, now you remind me, I do. There were three young ladies, I recall, though the youngest was no more than a child and the middle one, still at her lessons. The elder was seventeen or eighteen. I recall her name was Jane. I misremember the other names.’ He spoke nonchalantly, as if it were a matter of indifference to him.
‘Isabel is the second daughter. She is by far the most beautiful of the three, but Sophie is young and may grow into her looks. As for Jane, she has some very good qualities I can admire, but good looks is not one of them.’
‘So you have taken the pick of the bunch and not the eldest. Isn’t that a little unusual?’
‘We are not in the Middle Ages, Drew, my parents would never presume to tell me whom I should marry. I was able to please myself. Anyway, Jane would not have welcomed my advances even if I chose to make any. I believe there was some sort of disappointment. I don’t know the details, but she withdrew from society and I saw more of Isabel. Then of course I went to Portugal and was away six years. Isabel and I became engaged when I returned.’
‘So when is the wedding to be?’
‘Next month. The fifteenth.’
‘Then I wish you happy.’
‘Thank you. You must come down for the wedding.’
‘Oh, I don’t know about that.’
‘Why not? You do not have a prior engagement, do you?’
‘No, I am as free as the air until I find my clipper.’
‘Then why the reluctance?’
‘It is surely up to the bride’s family to issue the invitations? They may not wish to include me.’
‘That’s a feeble excuse if I ever heard one. I can put forward my own guests. Besides, there is something you can do for me...’
‘Oh, and what might that be?’
‘Jonathan Smythe was to be my groomsman, but he had to go to Scotland to visit an elderly relative who is dying and as his inheritance hangs on his attendance at the death bed, he has abandoned me to go to her. I need someone to stand up with me at the altar.’
‘I haven’t seen Jonathan since we were at school together. The terrible trio, they called us, do you remember?’
‘Yes. Always into mischief, the three of us.’
‘My great-aunt and Jonathan’s second cousin live in the same area of Strathclyde, both of them dragons.’
‘I know, but dragon or not, he has been summoned and I am left without a groomsman.’
‘I am flattered, Mark, but why me?’
Mark looked at his friend, his head a little to one side. ‘Because I am sure you will do the job admirably and you are one of my oldest friends, so who better? As soon as I saw you coming down the street, I knew my problem was solved. You will do it, Drew, won’t you?’
‘I’ll think about it.’
‘Don’t think too long. I have to go back to Norfolk the day after tomorrow and before that I have to bespeak me a suit of clothes fit for a bridegroom. Will you help me find it? You can help me choose gifts for my bride and her attendants, too, if you’ve a mind. It is always good not to do these things alone. A wise counsellor is what I need.’
Andrew laughed. ‘From having nothing to occupy me but a good dinner and a game of cards, I suddenly find my time filled with onerous tasks.’
‘Helping me buy a wedding outfit is not onerous. I am not short of blunt. I can afford the best and, if it helps, I will undertake to have a hand of cards with you. We can go to White’s. Are you a member?’
‘No, I haven’t been back long enough to join any clubs and without sponsors I am unlikely to be accepted.’
‘No matter, I will introduce you. So, do we shake hands on it?’ He put down his knife and held out his right hand.
Andrew took it. ‘Very well. Tomorrow we go shopping. I make no promises about attending the wedding though.’
Mark grinned. He was satisfied for the moment. He did not doubt that he would be able to persuade his friend to Broadacres and then he might find out the truth about why he had disappeared so suddenly. He did not believe the tale of family business because, as far as he knew, Andrew’s only family was an elderly spinster great-aunt who had had no wish to look after the orphan when his mother and father both died within weeks of each other. She had put him out to foster parents until he was old enough to go to school. From the odd things Drew had told him, he had been subject to physical abuse and mental torment. Mark had always felt sorry for him when they were at school, because when all the boys went home for the holidays, he had been left behind. He had invited him to Broadacres, but until Drew was old enough to make his own decisions he had been forbidden to come on the grounds it would give him ideas above his station. It was when they’d left university that he had been prevailed upon to spend some time at Broadacres before looking for a way of earning a living. Why, if it was family business that had called him, did he make such haste to go to India?
* * *
When they had finished their meal, which Andrew insisted on paying for, they parted, promising to meet again soon. Mark hired a hackney to take him to Halliday and Son to consult the son, Mr Cecil Halliday, about the marriage settlement. Mark was a careful man, but he was not ungenerous; he wanted to be sure Isabel had enough pin money to buy whatever she liked in the way of gowns and fripperies without having to appeal to him every time. He was not unaware that Sir Edward was struggling—it was obvious by the state of the house and grounds—and he had waived the dowry he had been offered. He knew how much of a sacrifice that would have been for the others—her ladyship, Jane and Sophie—who might suffer as a consequence. It was the last thing he wanted.
He was surprised when he arrived at the lawyer’s premises not to encounter Teddy, who was usually scratching away in the outer office. There was another man sitting at his desk.
‘Where is Mr Cavenhurst?’ he queried after he had been shown into Cecil Halliday’s office and they had exchanged greetings and handshakes.
‘Mr Cavenhurst is no longer with us.’
‘Not working here? Where has he gone?’
The man shrugged. ‘I have no idea, back to his lodgings or home to Norfolk, perhaps.’
‘What happened?’
