Aunt Jane went away to talk with her sister. To Joshua’s surprise and delight, his older cousin, Fred, Lord Cardington’s second son, was on furlough from the army. The last time they met was on a visit to London, three years before, when he took Joshua and Charlie Cobarne to Horse Guards’ Parade, and the horse sales at Tattersalls. Sophie had inveigled her way into the visit, more was the pity. She encroached on so many things.
When they finally escaped from the welcoming party, Fred took Joshua to visit the stables, to see the thoroughbred horses for which Rushmore was renowned, and to choose a horse for his use. Dinner that evening was a long-winded affair, with Lord Cardington dominating the conversation, probing the reasons for Joshua’s visit to Norfolk, for which Aunt Jane supplied answers that bore no resemblance to the reality.
Having a congenial relationship with his father, Joshua imagined everyone else did the same, but after the ladies withdrew from the dining room, he sensed a strange acrimony between Lord Cardington and Fred, which ensured the drinking of port was not prolonged. It was a relief to escape to his cousin’s apartment, a substantial set of rooms in the west wing of the house.
Used to army life, Fred’s notion of a quiet evening was to play cards and imbibe several bottles of burgundy. Joshua joined him in this, but tired from travelling, and unused to the quantity of alcohol, or quality of Lord Cardington’s excellent wine cellar, he lapsed into a stupor and spent the first part of the night on a sofa.
Sometime in the early hours, he blundered back to his bedchamber and fell into bed, not knowing how he found his way. Hearing birdsong, he cautiously opened one eye, felt the room spin round, and closed it. He tried again, and it stopped spinning. The next time, he smelled the aroma of coffee and found a valet looking incuriously down at him.
“Would you care to take your bath now, sir? Captain Frederick asked if you would join him in the breakfast room when you are ready.”
“What time is it?” he mumbled, blinking.
“Half past ten, sir, and everything is ready.”
Joshua sat up very carefully, feeling a runaway horse had trampled him. He touched his head to see if it still sat atop his body, and risked a nod of agreement. When nothing fell on the floor, he took a deep breath, slipped his feet out of bed and stood up.
A welcome cup of coffee removed the sawdust from his mouth, while the bath helped ease his discomfort and revive his flagging spirits. Half an hour later, he entered the breakfast room, and found Fred looking disgustingly fit, devouring several slices of red sirloin. He shuddered at the thought of food, but nodded when Fred insisted, “Eat some of this, Josh; it will do you good.”
Surprisingly, it did.
“It was probably the brandy you drank,” Fred said with a laugh. “I daresay that you’re not used to it. Better stay with the burgundy tonight.”
Joshua could not remember drinking brandy, but he bowed to Fred’s superior knowledge of his inebriated state.
His aching head cleared during a day spent riding a magnificent bay gelding around the estate, while Fred chose a chestnut. One could not fail to appreciate the bloodlines, and whatever else one might think of Lord Cardington, his stables were infinitely superior to any Joshua had seen before.
When they returned, he bathed again and donned formal dress, in readiness to endure another evening in Lord Cardington’s company. Fortunately, it was not of long duration, for Fred’s acerbic humour ensured that his lordship retired early to his library and remained there. After that, they escaped.
Although by nature Joshua was dutifully respectful to his elders, he admitted, by the time Fred opened a second bottle of burgundy, that it was a relief to be free of the sound of Lord Cardington’s booming voice. At five years his senior, Fred became equally more loquacious as the wine loosened his tongue.
“Have you heard about Atcherly being caught in the parson’s mousetrap, Josh? The sooner he produces a couple of sons, the better I will like it.”
What he meant was that Joshua’s cousin, Viscount Atcherly, had finally married. Fred made flippant comments about
a suitable bride
,
with a substantial dowry and lands that marched alongside those of Rushmore.
A cynical viewpoint indeed, but he learned it was no more than the truth.
“That should let me off the hook, unless he produces a clutch of daughters, for I’m next in line for the illustrious honour. Who wants a damn title and a fifteen-thousand-acre millstone around their neck? Marriage is not for a military man like me. I like women well enough, but prefer the decorative kind. Why take a wife when I have a little ladybird in keeping, who knows exactly how to keep me happy, and one can always avoid bastards.
“In due course,” he rambled on, “the parents will expect me to do my duty. That was why his lordship remarried, to have another son, when Atcherly’s mother died in childbirth. Of course, I don’t compare to the first-born, for I’m only the spare – his lordship’s guarantee for the future, to prevent the name dying out. I daresay you might have felt something like it when Matthew was alive.”
“No,” said Joshua, perfectly honest. “He said I was the family bastard.”
“The devil he did. It was just like him to say that, when everyone else knew that he was the cuckoo in the nest.”
Joshua looked at him hard. “What do you mean?”
“Part of the family secrets, I suppose,” said Fred, with a rueful grin. “It was something Atcherly told me when we visited Linmore, just after Uncle Tom brought those scrubby brats from Ireland. I think they were in some way related to my mother and Aunt Jane. The lad was polite enough, but his obnoxious sister quite upset his lordship, by not showing the proper respect for her betters. How we laughed…”
An apt description if ever Joshua heard one. The momentary recollection of the life-changing event that occurred when he was ten years old distracted his thoughts. When Joshua asked more of what Atcherly had said, Fred abruptly changed the subject, and he was no wiser.
“Keep out of my parents’ way as long as you can, Josh. They will be seeking a bride for you, before you are much older. It stands to reason, with Matthew gone. Have to say that I think you will make a better job of running Linmore when the time comes. Not that one would wish it to be soon, for Uncle Tom’s a splendid fellow. I always envied you your father. He is gentle in the real sense, whereas his lordship always took his parental duties far too seriously – particularly the floggings. Devilishly savage, when I was younger.”
Fred was well into his stride now, and Joshua let him ramble. He was learning more about the family than he knew before, and it helped to keep his mind off what would happen when he left Rushmore.
“Gilbert, his brother, was of the same harsh disposition,” Fred said, looking around for another bottle to broach. “Poor Jane…” he mused. “Did you know that is how my mother speaks of her sister, because she did not wish to forge close links with the Cardington family? My father intended her to marry his brother, but she laughed in his face. They consider her a sad case, but for my part I think it showed amazingly good sense.”
Joshua shook his head, wondering what else he would hear.
“A fine life she would have had if married to Gilbert,” Fred said, meaning exactly the opposite. “I like her best of all the family.”
“So do I,” said Joshua. He had not realised that Aunt Jane’s sister, Clarissa, was Lord Cardington’s second wife. It explained so many things.
He stayed three nights at Rushmore, during which time Lord Cardington decided to change Tom Norbery’s plans, and, without telling anyone, sent Kilcot home with the Linmore coach. Joshua only learned of this on the final night, when he sat down to dinner with the family.
Hearing the pronouncement, Joshua looked questioningly at Aunt Jane, but she simply raised her eyebrows. He guessed it was news to her, and wondered if her annoyance stemmed from a dislike of causing a dispute in front of the servants, or reluctance to be beholden to Lord Cardington for her transport home.
On that occasion, he met his cousin, Atcherly, with his wife, who dined with the family.
Suitably meek
, he thought, and someone who would not argue.
As usual, it was an over-long, formal affair of pomposity, in which Lord Cardington’s opinion took precedence over everyone else, and he depressed the pretensions of anyone with the temerity not to agree. Lady Cardington nodded approval to every word he uttered.
When the ladies retired from the dining room, the butler brought in the decanter of port, and the talk became more general. Fred called across the table to Joshua, an action that elicited a frown of disapproval from Lord Cardington. His cousin’s mocking grin warned Joshua not to take his words literally.
“I’ll be returning to London tomorrow, Josh. Had I known of your visit in advance, I could have driven you to Lichfield, but it appears that his lordship has planned a delightful surprise for you. Wigmore, his head groom, will take you in the chaise, instead. You must be sure to express your dutiful thanks to him.”
The following morning, after Joshua had thanked his hosts for their hospitality and said a fond farewell to Aunt Jane, he realised the significance of those cryptic words.
The day of departure started cold, with hazy sunshine, but Joshua was suitably clad for a ride in the open air. His low-crowned beaver hat, leather-caped greatcoat and gloves might be too warm later in the day, but were exactly right for the drive to Lichfield.
When he climbed into the chaise, Joshua imagined the splendid team of four matched chestnut horses would cover the distance in record time – but he had not accounted for the stately pace the senior groom thought fitting for such an equipage. Within minutes of meeting Wigmore, he realised the man belonged to the same school of thought as his old nanny, and irrespective of anything else, the old retainer would do things his own way – or rather, Lord Cardington’s way.
As they set off down the long drive, Joshua checked his timepiece to calculate how long the journey would take.
“Wigmore,” he said, politely. “How far away is Lichfield?”
“Oh, let me think,” the man said, suiting the word to the deed. “It must be all of fifteen to twenty miles, give or take a mile or two.”
“How long will it take us to get there?” At the present rate, Joshua could imagine them stopping for the night along the road.
“We’ll get there when we get there, young sir,” Wigmore said, in a patronising tone.
Joshua lapsed into exasperated silence, and then, to relieve the tedium, looked over the hedges of the enclosures. Within minutes, his eyelids drooped and he was wishing Lord Cardington had not sent the Linmore coachman home. He would not have been half so bored with people he knew. Then he started to watch the trained hands of the groom holding the reins and for a time, subconsciously mimicked the action.
“Wigmore,” he said, “have you always worked for Lord Cardington?”
“Indeed I have, young sir. I grew up on the Rushmore estate and was lucky enough to get a job when I left school. A better place I couldn’t hope to find.” Wigmore’s loyalty to his master was unshakable.
That much was apparent in the number of stops made to water the horses. Although the groom politely enquired if Joshua needed sustenance, it was obvious that his first consideration was for Lord Cardington’s horses.
Having accepted a tankard of ale with a crust of bread and cheese, Joshua wondered how he would fare travelling on his own. Intent on refreshing his memory of his travelling schedule, he opened his pocket book and to his chagrin, realised the list of instructions prepared by his father’s secretary was missing. A search through his pockets brought the same result. Where was it? Most likely he would find it in his valise when he reached Lichfield.
Joshua knew that one part of the missing papers itemised the towns and hostelries where he would stay overnight, with payment guaranteed. The next was a neatly written letter, requesting whomsoever it concerned, to provide Mr Joshua Norbery with whatever assistance he required during his stay.
He distinctly remembered reading it to Aunt Jane in the coach from Linmore, and had memorised the names of the towns.
Lichfield, the first on the list was a few miles off Watling Street, an old Roman road. Market Harborough was next, then Peterborough, Wisbech and Kings Lynn. Reassured by this, Joshua decided that the loss of the paper was not a disaster. He did not need anyone to find him accommodation. He could ask if a room was booked in his name. Payment was not a problem either, for his pocket book was literally stuffed with bank notes, and Aunt Jane had given him an extra ten guineas for emergencies. What could possibly go wrong?
A church clock struck three times as they turned into the stable yard of the Red Lion Inn on the outskirts of Lichfield. Wigmore hailed an ostler, and exchanged a greeting, while Joshua jumped down from the chaise and stretched before approaching the front of the half-timbered building.
He pushed open the solid oak door, and stepped from bright sunlight into a dark interior with low oak beams. A log fire burned in an inglenook fireplace, making the atmosphere seem unbearably close. Somewhere in the background, he heard the publican speaking to another customer.
“I’m sorry, sir, I have to keep my best room for a member of the nobility, but I can offer you the second best at a reduction.”
“If I take it, I want my dinner free as well,” said the man.
“I’m afraid not, sir. It’s the room or the meal, not both.”
After a grumbling hesitation, the person agreed.
Joshua looked around the room and found himself under the scrutiny of a sharp-featured woman, dressed in a frilled cap and black bombazine, whom he presumed to be the innkeeper’s wife.
“Yes, sir, and what can I do for you?” Her blunt tone was the first indication to challenge his belief in a warm welcome.
“My name is Norbery. I understand a room has been reserved for me.” Joshua quietly stated the fact, convinced his word was sufficient to prove his credentials. It worked in foreign embassies, so he anticipated no problems here. The woman glanced in the direction of her husband, and then peered doubtfully from the reception book, back to Joshua.