He glanced across the room to where his sister, Caroline, sat straight-backed on the chaise longue, with his two cousins next to her. His brother lounged by the fireplace, looking decidedly overdressed for country life in his pale lemon pantaloons and white-topped Hessian boots.
“Good God – more stray brats,” Matthew Norbery brayed. “Where the devil did he find this lot?”
Joshua cringed at his brother’s ignorant behaviour. To show off in front of the family was bad, but when they had visitors was worse.
Determined not to embarrass his father, he smiled and grasped Charlie’s hand. “I’m pleased to see you,” he said.
“Sophie, come and meet Joshua,” the boy said, with a soft lilt in his voice. “And remember to wipe your hands first.”
The little girl gave a weary sigh as she dragged the thumb from her mouth, rubbed her fist across her nose and wiped it against her pelisse before extending a grubby little paw in his direction.
Joshua knew it would be a sticky handshake, but he could not refuse. Charlie was everything he hoped, but he supposed he could not expect too much of a girl.
“How old are you?” he asked, for something to say.
“I’ll be eleven years old at Christmas,” Charlie said, “and Sophie is eight, going on nine. Uncle Tom tells me that I’m older than you.”
Like everyone else, but only by a few months.
While the grown-ups continued to talk in the background, Charlie peered at his face and said in an awestruck voice, “Wow, what a shiner. How did you get that, Josh?”
Out of habit, Joshua pushed back his hair from his forehead. Before he could cover the bruise, his brother barged in and boasted, “I gave him a thrashing.”
Charlie turned around and seemed to notice Matthew Norbery for the first time. “What’d you be doing that for?” he asked, the Irish lilt sounding decidedly pronounced.
“I don’t need a reason to kick him into shape. He’ll never amount to anything.” The dandified fop dismissed them with a supercilious sniff.
“You’d better not lay a finger on him whilst I’m here,” Charlie growled. “I’ll give you a dose of home brewed.”
Matthew Norbery stepped back and raised his ornate gold quizzing glass.
“By Jove,” he tittered. “We have a pugilist in our midst – how frightfully bourgeois.”
Joshua could not believe a stranger would speak in his defence.
“Matthew,” their father warned. “Kindly behave yourself.”
When they were called into the salon, Joshua moved forward to lead the way, and felt a cuff across the back of his head.
“Get in line, brat. I go before you, because I’m the heir to Linmore,” Matthew Norbery said and minced ahead of them.
Charlie waved his hands around to mimic the posturing.
“Don’t worry, Josh,” he said, “we’ll get his measure. Come on, Sophie, you don’t want to miss your tea, do you?”
Joshua waited because Charlie did, and took the expectant little hand in his. He looked at Sophie, and she almost grinned. At least, he thought it was a smile. It was the nearest thing to a grimace he could imagine.
“Oh, she likes you, Josh,” said Charlie. “I’m so glad.”
Joshua managed to contain his enthusiasm as best he could. He must be thankful for small things… he supposed.
“I’m sorry if it offends you, Josh, but I don’t like your brother.”
Joshua was showing Charlie the bedroom next door to his. Sophie would sleep on the opposite side of the nursery corridor, near the other girls. For now, she was sitting on the floor openly listening to their conversation.
At first, he was anxious in case they thought the rooms were too plain, but Charlie immediately bounced on the bed and declared it met with his approval. That was a relief.
“Don’t worry, Charlie. I don’t think anyone likes him.” It was a strange thing for Joshua to admit. Usually, he had to hide his feelings. “What did you mean about giving him some home-brewed? Do you know boxing cant?”
“That I do,” said Charlie. “I used to do a bit of bare-knuckle practice with the stable lad back home in Ireland – but only when Uncle Lucius wasn’t around. He is my pa’s brother. We used to live with him and Aunt Barleycorn, but they didn’t want Sophie and I couldn’t forgive them. My uncle wanted me to stay, but I promised pa that I would always look after her, and a man must honour his promises. That was when they gave up on me and wrote to Uncle Tom, telling him to come and collect us.”
Never before had Joshua had cause to view his family through the eyes of other people. Whilst Aunt Jane and his father were at pains to make the visitors welcome, his siblings set them apart. His younger cousins did not know what to do, so they copied his sister’s manner. Caroline’s demeanour was so prim that she scarcely turned her head to acknowledge the newcomers.
He felt ashamed of her reception, and determined to compensate for the lack of good manners. He could accept her remote attitude to him, but he resented it for Charlie and Sophie.
It was obvious his sister overawed Lucy and Julia, with her superior notions of etiquette. Most likely, she would deem it her bounden duty to correct any deficiencies in Sophie’s character. He dreaded to think what his brother might do.
When they took tea, he noticed his sister’s manner mellowed, and she went so far as to offer Sophie a seat beside her on the chaise longue. Instead, the girl sat on the floor, talking to the gundogs lying by the fire.
It was evident from Charlie’s polite manner that he knew how to behave in company, whilst Sophie assured herself of a canine welcome by alternating every bite she took from the slice of fruitcake with a token piece for the dogs. Then she went back for a second and third slice.
After she swallowed the last crumb and licked her fingers, she walked around the room running her hands over the polished furniture while her brother looked anxiously on. Then she sat on the hearthrug, facing the heir to Linmore.
It was difficult to know what she would do next. As far as Joshua was concerned, his brother was the most repellent creature in existence – a parasite that would do anything to attract attention.
Usually, Matthew Norbery liked nothing better than for the servants to gape at his latest fashionable attire. He feigned to deplore such reverence, coming as it did from half-witted yokels, but it fed his insatiable vanity.
It was a new experience for Joshua to see his brother disconcerted by an eight-year-old girl, who fixed her gaze on him for quite ten minutes, with the intensity of a gundog watching its master.
There was only one thing worse than not being of interest to anyone. That was for a newcomer to make Matthew the sole object of her curiosity. His agitation increased by the minute. Eventually, he jumped to his feet and flounced around the room, while Sophie lay on the floor, waiting for him to return to his seat. Then she yawned to show her boredom, which astounded the other girls. Seeing his sister’s look of horror, Joshua could imagine the scolding Sophie had in store.
Eventually, Charlie nudged Joshua in the ribs. “I know what she’s doing, Josh,” he whispered. “Sophie has a habit of collecting things. She never takes anything of real value – just enough to cause annoyance. It was the same when Aunt Barleycorn was nasty to her. Sophie hid her spectacles in a flowerpot, and it took days to find them.”
It was hard to imagine what his brother possessed that would be of interest. Well, there was the ornate gold fob he wore at his waist, or the huge quizzing glass he waved about and through which he peered at people with a hideously magnified eye. It had frightened Joshua when he was a little lad, and he still had nightmares.
Then he realised if Sophie went for things of little monetary value, she might have designs on the exquisite trim around the top of his brother’s brand new hessian boots, crafted by Mr Hoby.
She must have guessed the mirror shine, which Matthew truly believed was the best his valet could achieve, came second only to the gold tassels that adorned them.
They intrigued her so much that she often moved her head from side to side in time with the swaying tassels as Matthew paraded around the room. Eventually, he minced his way back, giving Sophie a wide berth, before sinking onto a seat with the foppish grace of a mannequin.
The minute he settled, she sidled up to him and crouched down to take a closer look. Then she looked him in the face, and smiled.
Immediately, he raised his open hand ready to strike, thinking to intimidate her.
“Ugh, get away from me, you dirty little wretch,” he squawked. “Don’t you dare touch my boots…”
His feeble demand was to no avail. Sophie was transfixed. It was as if she was waiting for something – and it came right on cue.
“Leave my sister alone,” Charlie roared, hurtling forward with fists bunched.
Matthew Norbery recoiled in horror, but his lack of attention gave Sophie the opportunity she needed to snatch one of the tassels from a boot, and toss it amongst the retriever gundogs in front of the fire. The largest black one, of solid build, gobbled it up and promptly spat it out again, drenched with spittle.
While others in the room looked on in astonishment, Sophie darted back to Charlie’s side in triumph. She had made her point.
Joshua started to giggle. He could not help himself. He had never seen his brother so enraged, or impotent. It was a joy to watch.
Snatching up his cane, Matthew leapt from the chair and turned menacingly on him. “What are you smirking at, Norbery?” he snarled. “I’ll give you something else to think about.”
“Matthew,” their father admonished, “if you cannot behave better than a spoiled child, then leave the room.”
Caught out in his abuse, the bully dissolved. “It’s not fair,” he blubbered. “Look what that… that… beastly creature did to my boots. She’s ruined them.”
“It does not excuse your behaviour. Stop the theatricals at once, and at least try to behave like a man.”
His father’s icy tone sent Matthew scuttling off in a huff to complain to his mother, and leaving Joshua to hope the inevitable backlash would not rebound on him, as it usually did.
Before he left the salon, Joshua looked for the missing tassel, but there was no sign of it anywhere. Then something caught his eye. He noticed Sophie slip her clenched fist into her coat pocket, and knew with a certainty Charlie was right about his sister. She did have magpie tendencies.
After he dined, Tom retired to the library and sat at his desk. He was tired from travelling and wanted to sleep, but the firm chair helped to keep him awake as he leaned forward, propping his elbows on the desk and chin in his hands.
He needed to think, and decide what to do about Matthew. No one could deny the provocation, but what shocked Tom was his eldest son’s lack of control, so reminiscent of Kate.
He should not be surprised, because Jane told him about Matthew’s aggressive behaviour to Joshua. Now he had seen it for himself, and it was clear that the older boy had been unchecked for too long. He needed occupation.
Kate was his next problem, for whatever decision he made, she would never agree. Irrespective of that, Tom knew it was better to wean them now with a year or two at university than wait for the extended period of a Grand Tour.
Goodness knows how long that would last, or what the cost would be; he would have to accept it.
It was doubtful if Matthew would derive any educational benefits from university, but his absence from Linmore would be a desirable outcome.
The sound of the door opening disturbed his reverie, although Tom sensed Jane’s presence, even before she crossed the threshold. He stood up and moved towards the couch.
“Come and sit down, Jane,” he said. “I haven’t held a sensible conversation since I left home.”
She glided forward and found a comfortable space beside him.
“I know,” she said with a laugh. “I’ve just heard Mary Kilcot telling everyone about her travels. It seems she had a wonderful time, and I imagine she will still be talking at midnight.”
Although the recollections amused him, Tom wanted to discuss other things.
“What am I going to do about Mathew? I know he is grossly overindulged, but I have never before seen him lose control over something as petty as an expensive pair of boots. For a moment, I thought he would have harmed her.”
“No, he wouldn’t have attacked Sophie,” said Jane. “She did not show any fear, which is what he wants his victims to feel. He thrives on that. I’ve seen how terrified Joshua is when he is on the receiving end of Matthew’s tantrums.”
“I cannot let this go on any longer. He needs some kind of occupation, and company other than his mother. Kate’s influence is destroying any sense he might have. He is becoming more like her every day. What do you think she would say if I send him to Oxford? It is, after all, a legitimate place for him to go.”
“It might help, but I’m afraid Matthew already has other company – drinking friends, with whom he meets in Norcott, at least twice a week.”
“William Rufus told me Matthew is frequently inebriated. Do you think his mood changes are alcohol induced?”
“Possibly, but I suspect there is more to it than that. There is something odd about him,” said Jane. “If you look at his eyes, his pupils are fixed. He looks almost distant, and there is an aromatic smell on Kate’s side of the house. I know Matthew smokes, but this is not like the cigars you use. I hate to say this, but it reminds me of…
Tom interrupted. “Are you sure his friends come from Norcott?”
“Yes,” said Jane, “and if the name Kate mentioned was correct, they have the most appalling reputation.”
He looked at her, his face tense. “You mean types like his maternal uncle?”
“Yes,” she said, “and knowing the Stretton family history, I don’t know where it will end, but it won’t be anywhere good.”
At Jane’s words, Tom felt a chill sense of unreality creeping over him.
“I hope you are wrong,” he said, “but if that is the case, we must assume they are supplying Matthew with opium. That is the last thing we need.”
“What will you do?”
“Consult with the physician, and find some way to separate Matthew from his local associates. Maybe he could visit some of the family – possibly at Rushmore. It might help distract him, and give me time to organise something more permanent for the future. I only hope we can persuade him to go.”