Sons and Daughters (6 page)

‘I’ll meet you at the stables in ten minutes,’ Charlotte said.

‘There’s nothing in his hoof. I think he’s pulled a muscle or a tendon. Rest him for a few days and I’ll come and massage it twice a day. Can you manage with the other two until he’s better?’ There were four horses on Buckthorn Farm – three shires and a pony that pulled Osbert’s trap.

‘Oh-ar, miss.’ Matty nodded.

‘There, there old boy.’ Charlotte ran her gentle fingers down the horse’s right front leg. The animal flinched and moved restlessly but seemed to sense that she was trying to help him. ‘There doesn’t seem to be anything out of place,’ she murmured. ‘Just a strain.’ She straightened up. ‘But we’ll get the vet if you think it best, Matty.’

‘Aw no, miss.’ He grinned toothlessly at her. ‘You’re as good as any vet I’ve seen. You should have been one.’

Charlotte smiled sadly, reminded once more that if only she’d been a man, she could have done or become anything she liked.

But the truth was, she wasn’t even thought enough of by her own father to sit at his table when he entertained.

‘That’s an absolute disgrace.’

Edward didn’t think he’d ever heard his wife so angry. ‘I’ve a good mind to go on strike just like them miners are threatening.’

The newspapers had been full of the coal crisis and rumours were spreading that if the miners went on strike, the whole country would soon come out in support of them. Edward had followed the news avidly, reading snippets out to Mary.

‘Wouldn’t do you any good, love,’ he said mildly now. ‘You’d just get the sack. And me along with you.’

Mary’s eyes glittered. ‘And right this minute, I wouldn’t mind if I did.’

‘Aye well, it wouldn’t help Miss Charlotte, now, would it?’

‘But have you ever heard the like? Banning his own daughter from a dinner party and suggesting she work like some skivvy in the kitchen!’

‘Likely she’ll be happier down here with us than up there.’

‘Mebbe so, but it’s the principle of the thing. What on earth will Mr Thornton think?’

‘I doubt he’ll ever know. He’ll have no reason to doubt the master’s word and he’s not likely to venture down into the kitchen. Unless, of course, he comes to compliment the cook.’

Mary gave him a wry glance and continued to beat the batter for Yorkshire puddings. The back door opened and Peggy Warren came in with the breeze.

‘By, but it’s blowy today, Mary. Nearly lost my wig on the way here.’ She laughed. ‘That’s if I’d got one.’ She hung her coat and scarf on the peg behind the door and tied a white apron round her waist. Washing her hands at the kitchen sink, she asked, ‘Now, Mary love, what can I do to help?’

‘Mek us a cuppa, there’s a dear. Edward’s tongue’s hanging out and I haven’t a moment to stop. Then you can start on the veg over there on the draining board.’

‘Where’s Miss Charlotte? Prettying hersen’ for tonight?’

Husband and wife exchanged a glance that was not lost on Peggy. ‘What? What have I said?’

Mary explained.

‘Not being allowed to join the dinner party?’ Peggy’s voice was high-pitched with indignation. ‘Well, I’ve heard it all now. Wait till I tell our Joe. He’ll never believe it. Not this, he won’t.’

Peggy and Mary carried on grumbling to each other about the unfairness of Charlotte’s life long after Edward had escaped upstairs to lay the dining table. There was no separate dining room at Buckthorn Farm, but the long sitting room was spacious enough for a seating area around the fireplace and for the dining table and chairs and a sideboard to be placed near the front window overlooking the lawn.

He found Charlotte, a scarf around her hair and a copious apron covering her dress, dusting and polishing the furniture. Any stranger arriving at that moment could certainly be forgiven for taking her for a housemaid.

‘Father’s gone upstairs for a rest, so I thought I’d give the whole room a good going over before he comes down again.’ She stood back and surveyed the whole room. ‘There, what do you think, Edward?’

‘Looks grand, Miss Charlotte.’

‘What about the china and the glassware?’

‘All done, miss. And the cutlery. Everything fair sparkles. I’ll lay the table now, if you’ve finished kicking up a dust.’

Charlotte laughed. ‘I have. I’ll go and see if I can help Mary.’

‘Peggy’s here, so they’re fine if there’s anything else you need to be doing.’ Edward bit his tongue, longing to add, ‘Like getting yourself ready for the dinner party.’ But he didn’t want to hurt the girl’s feelings any more than they had already been wounded.

‘If everything’s under control, then, I’ll just nip down to the stables and check on Tobias,’ she added, referring to the lame horse.

She left the house by the back door, wearing a long trench coat, wellingtons and her headscarf. She lifted her head to the breeze and tasted the salt air blowing in from the sea. It was surprisingly warm for early April and promised fine weather for Easter weekend. Charlotte would have loved a walk to the sea, but with Father’s unexpected dinner party, there was no time today. Perhaps tomorrow.

Turning to the left, she crossed the path that ran down the side of the house and the farm buildings, walked past the greenhouse and entered the paddock, where Joe was watching Matty leading the horse in gentle circles.

‘Hello, Miss Charlotte.’ Joe touched his cap and Matty nodded to her.

‘How is he?’

They stood side by side watching the horse.

‘Improving already we think, miss. What d’you say?’

Slowly, Charlotte nodded. ‘Yes, he’s definitely not limping as much as he was this morning. But I think you should rest him for at least a week.’

He grinned at her. ‘Better’n a vet, you are. It’s them healing hands you’ve got.’

Charlotte laughed aloud, the sound carrying on the breeze so that the horse pricked up his ears and whinnied softly. Matty brought the animal to a standstill and Charlotte moved forward to pat the horse’s neck and feed him a carrot from her pocket. ‘Good boy,’ she soothed. ‘You’ll soon be better. What about Jacob and Lightning?’ Charlotte was referring to the other two shires.

‘They’re fine.’

‘Another day or so and I’ll take Tobias for a short walk, Matty. Then later on, maybe as far as the beach before we let him on the land again.’

When there was little work on the farm for the horses – which wasn’t often throughout the farming year – Charlotte took them to the beach further north near the seaside resort where the sand was safer and firmer for the horses. In the warmer weather, they loved a paddle. It would have done the horse good now, she thought, and today would have been warm enough, but she daren’t risk the horse on the soft sand yet and it was too far away, anyway, and there was no time.

She bent and ran her hand down the animal’s leg. Tobias whinnied again, but he did not flinch or move away from her touch. ‘There, boy, there.’

She straightened up. ‘I’d best get back to the house. There’s a lot to do.’ She turned to Joe. ‘Peggy’s come to help. I expect you know?’

Joe nodded, his mouth tight. He’d called into the farmhouse kitchen only minutes before and heard that Charlotte was to be kept out of sight that evening. His anger threatened to spill over and he literally bit down on his lower lip to stop the words coming out of his mouth. It was a disgrace. An absolute disgrace. A travesty. Charlotte was speaking again and he dragged his angry thoughts back to what she was saying.

‘But are you sure your father’s all right, Joe? Is he well enough to be left?’

‘Our Tommy’s there, Miss Charlotte. He’s to stay in all day. The little scamp’s been fightin’ again. He’s sporting a shiner of a black eye.’

Charlotte glanced away, avoiding his gaze as Joe went on, ‘So I’ve told him he’s to stay at home and watch over his grandad. He’ll run and fetch me if there’s owt wrong.’

Charlotte turned away, her heart thumping in fear lest Joe should say more about the ‘fight’. But, rationally, she knew there was no earthly reason why he should think she’d know anything about it.

As she began to walk away, Joe called after her. ‘I’ll be up to see you in the morning, miss, if that’s convenient. There’re one or two matters I need your say-so on.’

‘That’ll be fine, Joe. About ten. See you then.’

But before that, she thought as she walked back to the house, there’s this dinner party to get through.

I’ll be glad when it’s all over.

‘Where’s Miss Charlotte? I want to see Miss Charlotte.’

From the kitchen, Charlotte heard the little boy’s piping voice in the hallway as the Thornton family arrived and, then, her father’s answer.

‘I’m very sorry, young man, but Miss Charlotte has a headache and has begged to be excused.’

‘But I’ve brought her some flowers. Father said I might.’

‘And magnificent they are, too. I’ll see that they’re taken to her room. Morgan,’ Osbert addressed Edward, ‘see to it at once. Now, if you’ll come this way, dinner is about to be served.’

The voices died away as Osbert and his guests moved into the room and Edward pushed his way through the door from the hall, carrying the biggest bouquet of flowers Charlotte had ever seen in her life.

‘I expect they’re from the greenhouses at the manor, miss.’

With trembling fingers, she touched the lovely blooms – daffodils, tulips, iris and even roses.

‘No one’s ever given me flowers before,’ she murmured. ‘How thoughtful. How kind.’

And how sad, Edward was thinking, that they come from a six-year-old!

The dinner party was going well. Osbert sat at the head of the table looking around with deep satisfaction. Three sons. How lucky the man was. And he didn’t even seem to appreciate it. If only . . . Osbert’s attention was drawn, not to the little chatterbox, whom his father made no attempt to quieten, but to the eldest of the three boys.

Philip Thornton was everything that Osbert looked for in a young man and everything that he’d desired in a son of his own. At sixteen, the youth was tall and slim, with handsome, even features. His blond hair – so fair it was almost white – was smoothed back from his broad forehead. His blue eyes were intelligent, if a trifle cold and calculating. But even that was a quality Osbert esteemed. He liked the steely look of determination. The young man would go far in life.

Osbert felt an unaccustomed thrill and his heart quickened its beat as an idea began to form in his mind. A preposterous idea, but a wonderful one. He continued to regard Philip through narrowed eyes, assessing him, judging him. The boy caught his gaze and held it with a haughty arrogance that further increased the older man’s admiration.

What a splendid young man! What a son!

He leaned towards him. ‘And what do you hope to do, Philip? I understand that you’re at boarding school at present?’

Philip smiled stiffly. ‘Yes, sir.’ He answered politely enough, but he was not enjoying the evening. He’d been aware of their host’s gaze upon him and had found it disconcerting.

‘And after school?’ Osbert prompted. ‘What then?’

‘I’d like to read law at university.’

Osbert felt a flash of disappointment. ‘Indeed? So you do not intend to take over the running of the Ravensfleet Estate from your father?’ He smiled, though the smile did not reach his eyes. For many years Osbert’s smile had been a mere stretching of the lips. No humour or kindliness ever reached his eyes. ‘Though, of course, that should be many years off.’

Philip glanced across the table at his father. There was a slight sneer to his mouth as he said, ‘I don’t think farming is for me. Besides, as you say, that’s many years off. And there are two more sons – ’ he gestured towards his siblings – ‘who are probably more suited to – ’ he paused and added sarcastically, ‘more suited to the bucolic life.’

Osbert’s eyes narrowed. It was a blow to his idea, but merely a setback. Far from being put off by the young man’s arrogance, he liked him even more.

‘I – see,’ he said slowly. ‘But you wouldn’t – surely – be averse to being a land
owner
, would you? Even if you didn’t want to till the soil with your own bare hands, as it were, you’d like to be a man of property?’

Philip shrugged nonchalantly, not quite sure what their host was driving at. ‘I suppose so. But the estate my father’s just bought is hardly vast. Certainly not large enough to divide amongst three sons.’

‘Precisely so,’ Osbert murmured, his gaze still on Philip. His glance went next to the middle son, sitting so quietly. He’d hardly spoken the whole evening and then only when directly addressed. He did not attract Osbert’s admiration like his elder brother did.

Benjamin Thornton was the quiet one of the three. At twelve, he was still a little shy and would have been far happier visiting the stables at Buckthorn Farm and seeing all the animals than sitting in this stranger’s shadowy front room with its heavy, dark furniture.

‘And you, my boy?’

Benjamin started as he realized their host was addressing him directly. ‘What do you hope to do when you leave school?’

The boy ran his tongue nervously around his lips and glanced at his father. Miles Thornton smiled and came to his son’s rescue. ‘Ben is the one who is most likely to take over the running of the estate. His ambition is to go to a good agricultural college when he leaves school. It’s one of the reasons we’ve come to Lincolnshire. The move doesn’t affect Philip, of course. He’ll still attend the same boarding school and as for Georgie – ’ His smile was indulgent. ‘Well, he’s a little young to worry about what he’ll do when he’s grown.’