Brothers at Arms (54 page)

Of course, he would not send it. He did not know where she lived, but it helped to lighten his mood. Any communication between them would have to be in person when he went to London.

He smiled as he wrote, telling her about his stay at Holkham. There were several omissions, but he decided they did not matter. The lines flowed from the pen, on and on. He did not realise the others had stopped playing cards and were watching him, until Michael Gransden started to speak.

“You seem engrossed in your writing, Norbery.”

Joshua glanced up and looked to the opposite end of the wooden table.

“Yes,” he said, and continued writing.

“It can’t be any of the agent’s lessons to command such enthusiasm.”

“No.” Joshua resumed his writing, well pleased with his tactics. He was enjoying himself.

“It must be to a friend,” Michael persisted.

“Yes,” he said, deciding he could afford to smile. “One I met in Athens.”

“Aha,” said Michael, as if he said something original. “I think, James, our friend is writing to a lady.”

“Oh, yes,” said Joshua, with a grin. “She is definitely a lady.”

“I thought you said you didn’t have any
affaires
on the tour?” Michael sounded decidedly aggrieved.

“No,” said Joshua. “What I actually said was I didn’t pay a farthing for a woman. There is a vast difference.”

Michael Gransden’s expression was a picture to behold.

Having decided it was time to end the letter, Joshua sealed it with a wafer. He wrote the name
Lady Rosemary Chervil
on the front, and slipped it inside his diary. It served its purpose, and he felt better, but there were too many pages to send it through the postal service. Not that he really intended to do so. Even supposing he had Rosie’s address, he couldn’t take the chance of under-paying the postage for a billet-doux, and expecting her to pay the difference. That would never do.

April 1802

“I say, Norbery; in my last letter home, I told my parents you hadn’t been off the Holkham estate in almost a year. How would you like to come home to Lynn with me for a few days?” Michael Gransden was in one of his beneficent moods. Then he spoiled it by saying, “James is coming as well, so there is no need for you to feel out of place. We’ll take my gig, so you and Kegworth can ride the horses.”

Irritated by Michael’s patronising manner, Joshua’s first instinct was to decline. It would be no pleasure if all the Gransden family were pompous. Most likely they were not, though part of him wondered if he was equally inept with words at their age.

What reason could he give if he refused? It would only be for a few days, and he would have to re-enter the social world sometime. Why not here, where no one knew him?

“Thank you,” he said. “I’d be glad to come.”

It was just as well he did not consider it beneath his dignity to ride with the valet. How could he, when the man refused payment for maintaining his clothes, and promised to repair any deficits in supply when they reached Lynn?

Having gained leave of absence from Mr Blakeney, they set off from Holkham on a Friday morning. The weather was dry, but there was a fresh onshore wind, and most years, the month of April was notoriously showery.

When the agent forewarned of rain, Michael laughed at the notion, but Joshua donned his wide-brimmed hat, and the greatcoat with waterproof shoulder capes. It was better to be prepared.

Standing beside Michael and James, wearing their fashionable driving coats and high-crowned beaver hats, Joshua knew he looked countrified. Any doubts about his practical clothing vanished when Kegworth emerged from the stables, similarly clad for the journey of almost thirty miles to the Gransdens’ home at Hopstone Court, a short distance from Kings Lynn.

Michael set a good pace with the gig, leaving Joshua and the valet to follow on horseback. They caught up with the pair at a country inn, where they were enjoying a tankard of ale.

“Have you watered your horses?” Joshua asked.

“Kegworth can sort them out,” Michael said.

“I know, and so can we,” said Joshua, as he went through the door and found Kegworth outside, attending the horses.

“It’s all right, sir, you don’t have to worry about this,” the man said. “I was a groom before I took the job as valet.”

“What made you change?”

“I broke me leg, and Lady Gransden offered me this work, thinking it was easier.”

“Does it hurt to ride?”

“A bit, but not so you’d notice. I’ll probably feel the effects tomorrow.”

“Make sure you have a drink before we start.”

“Thank you kindly, sir,” said the man, pocketing the proffered coin.

When Joshua returned indoors, Michael said, “I was just telling James that my sister, Melissa, wants to meet you chaps. She is only just sixteen, so you will have to make allowances. She’s a good sort really, for a girl, and much better than my older sisters.”

As an afterthought, he said, “I daresay we’ll have a few friends sharing dinner tonight; and with the three of us as well, there should be an even number. We might have a bit of dancing.”

Irrespective of the reasons Michael enumerated, Joshua knew his presence was supposed to convince Sir John and Lady Gransden of the benefits their son would derive from European travel. The idea being that if a mere country squire considered it important for his son, then a baronet was under the same obligation. It did not matter what they decided; Michael was not going anywhere in Europe with the war on.

They arrived at Hopstone Court in good time to meet with the Gransden family, before changing their clothes.

When Joshua entered the guest bedchamber allocated to him, he found a servant preparing a bath for his use. Seeing the screened alcove set aside for the hipbath, and several other discreetly placed modern conveniences, it was easy to understand Michael’s boast that his home was the envy of their neighbours.

Taking a bath at Holkham meant using the facilities in the servants’ washrooms or a dip in an old tin tub in the stables. To have one prepared especially for him was sheer indulgence. He had not realised how much he missed that kind of thing, particularly after spending a day in the saddle.

Having washed himself, he leaned back to wallow in the depth of warm water. Then he closed his eyes and let his mind relax as memories of Thessalonica came flooding back. Mmm, that was just perfect…

It seemed only minutes later that he heard Kegworth’s voice calling.

“Mr Norbery, it’s half past five. Lady Gransden said I was to remind you we keep country hours here, and dinner will be served at precisely six o’clock.”

The implications of being late for dinner exercised a powerful effect. Before the valet stopped speaking, Joshua was halfway out of the bath, reaching for the warmed towels. Damn, his hair was wet, and there was little time in which to dress and get it dry.

Luckily, the valet brought extra towels for just such a contingency: large sheets of thick cotton to wrap around his form and towel his shoulders dry. Kegworth anticipated his need for a shave and prepared to apply a razor. It was a blessing, for Joshua could not afford to cut his chin tonight.

Clean linen stood ready, with a selection of evening clothes from which to make a choice.

“Thank you, Kegworth; I’ll wear the dark green tonight.”

It was an easy choice with matching coat and knee breeches, teamed with a cream and gold embroidered waistcoat.

The valet gave a discreet nod of agreement.

“I can see you know what style suits you, sir. That will look a rare treat, if you don’t mind me saying, and one that’ll meet with Lady Gransden’s approval.”

That might help to obviate his faux pas in being late, but not completely excuse it. Joshua looked at the clock and saw it wanted fifteen minutes to the hour. It would be a close-run thing.

With time at a premium, he readily accepted the valet’s deft hand tying his neckcloth, and said a silent prayer of thanks to Mary-Anne for achieving the right balance between crispness and comfort.

Thank the Lord, the first attempt succeeded, and the coat eased across his broad shoulders without a struggle.

By now, his hair was dry enough to tie back with a fine length of black ribbon. A quick dust of his shoes, then a final application with a clothes brush to his coat, and he was ready. The valet had performed a miracle with a minute to spare.

“I’ll show you the way, sir,” Kegworth said, opening the door to the corridor.

Joshua reached the top of the staircase as the butler sounded the dinner gong and saw the assembled guests join their partners and move forward towards the dining room. He ran lightly down the first flight and around the curve, hoping that he could slip unnoticed down the final set of fifteen treads that he had counted on the way up.

Too late, several of the guests sensed his presence, and turned their eyes in his direction, so he had to run the gauntlet. Resigned to the inevitability of being late, he stopped to take a breath.
Don’t get flustered. Think about something else.

The hum of voices resumed when he returned their scrutiny.

A gentleman never draws attention to his dress.
The words came to mind as Joshua noted the vivid shades and flamboyant styles worn by Michael Gransden’s circle of friends. They reminded him of gaudy peacocks vying for attention, and it made him glad he chose to wear a plain colour.

The knowledge he was well dressed helped him face the ordeal ahead. He could not avoid meeting these people, so he would have to pretend he was enjoying the experience. As he walked sedately down the staircase, he recited the names of the Gransden family he had met earlier.

Sir John Gransden was a bluff countryman, who looked as if he would be more at home on the hunting field than in a ballroom. Lady Gransden was tall and imperious, and reminded him of Aunt Winifred Pontesbury – not so much in looks as her disconcerting way of knowing everything that went on.

From what he gathered, Charlotte, the eldest daughter, was married. Harriet, the next oldest, living at home, seemed prim and studious, almost a blue stocking, whereas Melissa, if he remembered correctly, was nearest to Michael in age; and there were two younger girls in the schoolroom.

He reached the final step at the exact time that the last guest passed through the door that the butler held open in readiness. Then he noticed that waiting in the hallway was a young lady of medium height and tumbling curls in a rich tawny brown, reminiscent of Michael Gransden’s colouring.

At the same time, the girl looked up and saw him watching. Then she smiled and moved to his side. “Hello, I’m Melissa,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind, but Mama said I was to go into dinner with you.”

Mind…he was delighted to have her support?

She was a friendly little soul with unaffected manners, wearing a modestly styled gown in light blue muslin as befitted her age. In looks, she favoured her mother, but had not achieved the willowy build of her older sisters.

Joshua was more than happy to accept her company, because Michael and James were escorting two other girls of a giggly nature, who were, according to Melissa, daughters of the Gransdens’ nearest neighbours.

Three other families sat down to dine with them; two neighbours with older children, with the local clergyman and his family to add leaven to the group.

The atmosphere in the dining hall was one of great pomposity, with a steady stream of uniformed servants scurrying hither and thither, loading the long mahogany table with a larger selection of food and wine than the twenty or so people had any hope of consuming.

Long before the meal was over, Joshua realised the pomp and ceremony was to support Sir John Gransden’s notion of self-consequence. From what he could see, Michael’s father appeared to be a man of many words and little sense. A tendency shared with his son and heir.

The image intensified every time the baronet interrupted his lady, mid-sentence, demanding to know something unrelated to what she was saying to the guests sitting on either side of her.

As Lady Gransden sat at the opposite end of the table to her husband, with Joshua on her left-hand side, and Melissa one seat to his left, this resulted in frequent interruptions. Other than adopting a pained expression, Lady Gransden showed little response to her husband’s lapse of good manners, but when her son similarly raised his voice to gain attention, she quelled him with an awesome glance.

After one such break in conversation, Joshua turned to his hostess, and said in a lowered tone, “Lady Gransden, I must beg your pardon for my lateness.”

He had not been precisely late, but etiquette demanded that he said something.

She fixed him with a penetrating stare, her lips pursed.

“I’m afraid I fell asleep in the bath.”

He had learned from Lady Kenchester in Rome, that honesty was much preferred to excuses.

Whilst Melissa chuckled at his side, her mother asked, “Did you ride all the way from Holkham today?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Kegworth can vouch for that as he rode with me.”

She frowned at his words, and then smiled benignly as she touched his wrist. “I will forgive you on this occasion, Mr Norbery, but I think we can improve on the arrangements for your return journey.”

Somehow, he sensed that would include the valet.

At the end of the meal, the gentlemen wasted little time over their port, before rejoining the ladies. The reason for this became clear when the older members made up two card tables in one room and the younger folk prepared to enjoy an evening of country dancing, to the accompaniment of the governess on the pianoforte.

It began that way, but as the evening progressed, the dancing turned into a romp, as Michael’s friends made free use of the wine decanter, and then dashed out onto the terrace with their partners.

Melissa peered through the French doors. “Do you think we ought to go with them?” she said.

“No.” Joshua did not wish to be churlish, but he had not forgotten the last time he ventured outside to remonstrate with a recalcitrant female. He was still dealing with the aftermath.