The Regency (24 page)

‘
But Lady Barbara has attached herself to Roberta for the
trip, and I cannot endure to be in the same house as that
woman.'

‘
I am glad to have you, and the dear children,' Héloïse
protested. 'I love the house to be full. I should not mind if
you brought twice as many people.'

‘
I almost did, for Danby Wiske came up with me, and
Robert Knaresborough, but I did not think you would have
room for them, so they are to stay at Shawes, too.'

‘
Oh, but there is good room for them in the bachelor wing,'
Héloïse said. 'I shall write Roberta a note to say she should
send them here.’

No, don't do that — the house will be quite crowded
enough without them. I know your notions of hospitality! I
shall never forget the four months I spent with you at Plaisir:
you don't think you have enough guests until they are falling
over each other.’

Though Héloïse felt the house could never be full enough, the arrival of the race-week parties brought certain tensions.
The children settled in to the nurseries, and Miss Trotton and Miss Rosedale eyed each other with evident approval and the
promise of long tête-â-tétes to come; but Fanny held herself
aloof from her cousins and, demanding a holiday from lessons
and Miss Rosedale, attached herself to her father with an air
of triumph.

James accepted her presence with an air of distraction. He
was feeling uneasy because John Skelwith seemed all too often
at the house: Mathilde was to attend the races each day with a party of young people, the Keatings and Somers's and one
or two others, and since John Skelwith was making all the
arrangements, it seemed to necessitate his calling frequently
on Mathilde, sometimes in company, but more often alone.
James could not object without some reason, and he cursed
the unlucky accident which had brought them together. The
more Skelwith and Morland Place were exposed to each
other, he feared, the more likely he was to discover the truth.

Edward was feeling uneasy because Robert Knaresborough,
though staying at Shawes, could not absent himself from
Lucy's children, and seemed to run tame about Morland Place.
The sight of him reminded Edward painfully of the last time
he had seen Chetwyn, and the circumstances of Chetwyn's
death. Certainly there was nothing to complain about in
Knaresborough's manner or behaviour, but Edward still
wished him at the bottom of the sea, or some warmer place.

‘It's the outside of enough for Lucy to have asked him,' he
complained bitterly to Héloïse. 'Why does she let him hang
about her children?'

‘
He is very good with them, and they are fond of him,'
Héloïse said distractedly, 'and you must remember, Lucy
never understood about the scandal. I, for one, should not
like to try to explain it to her.’

Ned took the point, but reluctantly. 'Well then, why
doesn't he spend his time at Shawes? It's an insult to Roberta
that he's here all day long.'

‘
Roberta does not mind,' Héloïse said, detaching her mind
with a sigh from the guest-list for the grand dinner they were
giving on Wednesday. With limited space, the question of who
to include and who to leave out was a delicate one.

‘
Roberta is altogether too easy-going. It does no-one any
good to be allowed to do what they like.'

‘
It is not going to be easy to tell Fanny that she is not to be
present at the dinner,' Héloïse murmured, unable to keep her
mind from her own problem.

‘
And that's another thing,' Edward said. 'That new
governess is making Fanny worse than ever. It's time you sent
her packing.'

‘
Oh, but she has kept Fanny out of mischief so far. And at least she stays, not like the others,' Héloïse said placatingly,
and offered a counter-irritant. 'I wonder should we ask John Skelwith? It might seem a slight if we do not — and yet we
can hardly ask him without asking his mother too.’

Edward's eyebrows shot up. 'Ask his —! I should think not!
What are you thinking of? It's bad enough having him haunt
the place, without having to endure his mother as well.' He
looked around him with a frustrated air. 'Tiger — here!
Sometimes I think everyone in this house has gone mad,' he
complained, and stumped off to the stables.

*

As well as all the arrangements for entertaining, and her
worries on behalf of the rest of the family, Héloïse had quite
another source of unease, and one to which she could not very
well own. Lucy, since her arrival, had been paying unusual
attention to Thomas, and Héloïse began to suspect that she
was thinking of taking the boy away with her. This was
entirely as it should be, and Héloïse had often regretted that Lucy had shewn so little interest in her child before; but the
fact remained that she loved Thomas very much, just as if he were her own, and she knew that she would be very unhappy
if he were taken away. Not only that, but Sophie would break
her heart, and she rather suspected that Thomas would not
take kindly to the idea either.

Added to that, Héloïse was about to enter the fifth month of
her pregnancy, and was suffering from continuous indigestion,
which was wearying, and the frequent desire to pass water,
which was tiresome; and she was obliged to be hospitable
to guests, patient with children, and to express a keen interest
in the horses Edward and James were running, when all she
wanted was to go off on her own and find somewhere cool
to lie down, with her feet propped up on several pillows.

But her early training stood her in good stead, and she bore
every minor irritation with patience, though she sometimes
felt that one more interruption would break her heart. When
the last straw was added, it came from the expected source —
Fanny.

Fanny had rejoiced when her plea to be let off lessons had
been admitted, and she had looked forward to glorious days of
being with her father, like the days when they were breaking
Honey together. Honey's training had been suspended for
the moment, with the imminence of race-week, and she had
been turned out with the other young horses. James spent
most of every day at Twelvetrees, working on the horses who
would be racing, and to Fanny's surprise and dismay, he
didn't seem to have time for her.

When she had first made her request, he had said, 'Yes, of
course you can come, Fan, but you mustn't get in the way.'
This was slightly less welcoming than she might have
expected, but she put it from her mind. When she presented
herself the first day, ready to drive with him in the gig up to
Twelvetrees, he had smiled and ruffled her hair rather
absently, and once at the stables he had seemed to forget her
existence.

She trailed round after him as he busied himself with all
the last-minute details and decisions, but he seemed to find
her in the way, and did not consult her, or invite her to help,
or even talk to her, except to say, ‘Mind, Fan, watch yourself,'
or ‘Stand over there, out of the way, that's a good girl.' If she did not look sharp, he was likely to walk off without her, and
once or twice he did disappear, leaving her feeling unwanted, conspicuous, left out.

Finally there came the dreadful day when they were in the
box of the promising four-year-old, Nimrod, and James and
Salton, the rough-rider, and Nimrod's groom were anxiously
examining a slight cut on his hock.

‘
It doesn't look too serious,' James said, 'but we can't
afford to take any chances. I'm not sure if this is swelling or
not.' He passed his hand down Nimrod's stifle and the horse
lifted its foot warningly. 'You'd better bathe it every couple of
hours, Harry, and let me know at once if it seems any worse.'

‘Yessir,' said the groom.

‘
And he'd better have plenty of gentle exercise,' James
added to Salton, ‘to make sure it doesn't get stiff. He'd better be walked about the paddock for ten minutes every hour. See
to it yourself.'

‘
I've got four others to ride, sir,' Salton reminded him.
‘Anyone could walk this one round, I haven't got time.’

do it, Papa,' Fanny said eagerly from behind him, but
no-one even seemed to hear.

James frowned. 'Make time,' he said, a little irritably.
‘Nimrod's more important than the rest put together.'

‘
Very good, sir,' Salton said sulkily, and at that tense
moment James stepped back from the horse and bumped into
Fanny. In staggering to regain his balance, he kicked the
water-bucket, which clanged against the wall, and Nimrod,
startled, laid back his ears and fly-kicked, catching Harry in
the meaty part of the thigh.

The groom stifled a curse and stepped back, hugging his
leg, and James rounded on Fanny in a fury. ‘If you can't keep
out of the way,' he snapped, ‘you'll have to go home!’

Fanny paled. 'But I want to help,' she cried.

‘
You're being nothing but a nuisance at the moment,'
James said angrily, and turned his back on her. ‘Are you all
right, Harry? Hoa, there, boy, stand still! I hope to God that
cut hasn't opened up any further —’

Fanny pressed herself into the corner of the box, biting her
lip in mortification, while the three men inspected the cut and
agreed at length that it was no worse. Then they filed out,
James waiting pointedly at the door of the box to see Fanny
out, and then walking off with Salton without a word to her.

Fanny was desolated. He had never spoken so sharply to her before, never said that she was a nuisance or suggested
that he did not want her with him. She was not to know of the
various anxieties which were making him tense and irritable;
she only knew that she had angered him, and that he had
rebuffed her. Somehow she must mend matters, make him
look at her lovingly again, shew him she was useful, that he
needed her, that he could not manage without her.

The idea was already in her head. Nimrod needed to be
walked round every hour, and Salton had said he was too
busy. She, Fanny, had offered to do it, but Papa had not
heard her. She would take on the task, walk Nimrod so care
fully and regularly that his leg would be healed up in no time,
and then everyone would be grateful to her.