“Be glad we live in a rational age,” said Caroline.
“Are you sure that we do?” said Griselda.
“That is an interesting question,” said Caroline, clasping her hands behind her back. “Perhaps not entirely. But it is best to comfort oneself with the idea that it is.”
“Might I ask something?” said Griselda. “About your engagement to Sir Thomas Thorpe. Why the uncertainty? Forgive me if this seems impertinent…”
“No, it is not at all. I am glad to be able to talk of it to someone impartial. We met at my brother-in-law’s house in Derbyshire in July – he was a fortnight there. My sister likes a very large company and I think he was invited to meet me, so we were much thrown together and we became friends. He asked my brother whether he had any objections to his taking the matter further, which of course he did not. After that he went to Priorscote to supervise the harvest, and I continued at my sister’s until August when we came here to Cromer. He wrote to my mother asking whether he might come and see us – and he has been here two weeks. The day before yesterday he asked me to marry him and I accepted. But it seems that his mother is against it.”
“How can she be?”
“Because – and this is what has so upset us – she maintains he is engaged to Lady Mary Liston, Lord Wansford’s daughter – his only child, in fact.”
“She’s an heiress, then?”
“To a very staggering fortune, yes. And Lady Thorpe seems to have influenced Lady Mary in some way, and made her believe that Sir Thomas is attached to her and that she must consider herself engaged. She wrote to me telling me that any proposal that Sir Thomas made to me was not honourable since he was not free to act.”
“How very frightening for you. What must you have thought?”
“I thought everything. I was quite prepared to end our engagement there and then but he came to dinner and when I saw him, I knew he could not be guilty of such a thing. He said everything that was proper and now I am entirely reassured. Of course, he does not require his mother’s consent but we shall endeavour to get her blessing. It may not be easy.”
“She will give it the moment she knows you,” said Griselda.
“I do hope so,” said Caroline. “For I have decided – and you must allow me to be impetuous here – that you must be settled in a good house with a good husband, not above ten miles drive from Priorscote, for I think you will make me a very good neighbour.”
Tom could not sleep. He could not stop thinking about her. He felt that her touch had branded him and his body was covered with painful burns from which he could get no relief.
Despite a long late walk, he was not tired, and after hours of agonised tossing and turning, he eventually climbed out of his bed at three in the morning. He sat reading Shakespeare – Anthony and Cleopatra, a poor choice and no distraction – until tiredness overcame him around first light. He slept until ten and only woke then because Gough came in. Used to his master’s steady habits, Gough had been alarmed that he was not called for at seven as usual. By ten he could stand to wait no longer and had gone in to check that Tom was not insensible or worse.
“Let me send for a doctor, sir,” said Gough who had worked himself into a state of serious alarm. “I am sure you caught a fever yesterday. You said you took a soaking in the storm.”
“I have no fever, Gough,” said Tom. “And I should not consult a physician in a place like Cromer, for they are bound to be the sort to make a man take to a bath chair and emetics for the rest of his life.”
“A purge sir, that might be just the thing,” said Gough. “Your late father used to take a mixture of…”
“No Gough, if you please!” exclaimed Tom. “I do not need purges, I need a wife.”
Gough looked shocked, but Tom was not over-concerned with Gough’s feelings. He was too out of temper and too miserable with desire to think of anyone but himself. “I will go and bathe.”
“What about your breakfast, sir?”
“I shall take it when I return.”
“The sea looks very rough today, sir,” said Gough.
“Then I shall take my chances,” said Tom and then seeing the distress on the old man’s face, said in a more mollifying tone, “Come now, you know I am a strong swimmer. Think how much good this will do me.”
Gough was right – the sea was rough, but Tom was in the mood for some real exertion, and with considerable enthusiasm plunged into the water from the steps of the bathing machine. It was extremely cold but exhilarating, and he had swum out some distance from the machine in a matter of minutes. He stopped to tread water, gazing back at the shore and the strange appearance of the bathing machines which had been drawn into the water and looked like floating huts. In front of each some invalid floundered and splashed with the help of a guide, and there was only one other bather who had struck out on his own as Tom had done. He was swimming with a powerful crawl and Tom, wanting a challenge, determined to swim over to him and request a contest.
It was no easy matter to catch him, however, and Tom was impressed by an exhibition of such strength. But then the swimmer slowed suddenly and Tom realised at once he was in great danger. He pushed himself forward only to see that the man been seized with the cramp and was hanging motionless in the water, about to be swept out to sea in the next pulse of the waves. Quickly Tom wrapped his arms around him and began to bring him back towards the shore. He was a large, muscular man and made almost dead weight for Tom to drag. Tom began to fear he was already drowned, but as they approached Tom’s machine he began to cough and splutter.
Tom struggled and got him up onto the little platform at the end of the machine. The man sprawled onto the wooden floor of the machine and vomited violently. Clearly mortified, he attempted to get to his feet, only to stumble half way through the act.
“Do not disturb yourself, sir,” Tom said, crouching beside him and offering him a towel. “You are not at all well.”
“I am a fool,” he said. “Why I even attempt these things… Thank you. You are very kind.”
“Anyone would have done the same.”
“But poor cripples should not swim out of their depth and then oblige others to rescue them. I beg to apologise, sir.”
“It was nothing. In fact I was chasing you to ask you for a race.”
“I should have liked that,” said the man, managing a smile.
“Another day perhaps?” said Tom.
“Yes,” said the man. “May I know the name of my preserver?”
“Thorpe, Thomas Thorpe,” said Tom.
“Colonel Hugh Farquarson at your service,” responded the man.
Tom finished drying himself and began to get dressed.
“I shall go and tell the attendant to fetch your things,” he said. “And then, will you do the honour of taking some breakfast with me? I feel I must honour such a determined sportsman.”
“I should be more than grateful, sir,” said Farquarson.
***
Tom decided it was as well he had invited him back to his lodgings. Although determined not to make anything of it, the Colonel had a very severe limp and had to lean on a stick. His experience in the water had obviously exhausted him. He admitted that his own lodgings were up the hill by the church, whereas Tom was much more conveniently lodged on the sea front.
Gough was very glad to know that it was not his master who had nearly drowned. He would have been embarrassingly grateful to the impressive military gentleman if that had been the case. As it was not, he was content to fuss over the breakfast table until Tom felt he must send him away before he lost his temper with him, which he did not wish to do in front of the Colonel. He noticed that Farquarson smiled as Gough took his leave and found he must say, “I am going to look out a cottage on my estate for him and I shall give him an apothecary’s chest set with a silver plate inscribed with my grateful thanks. He is an excellent servant but I am not an old man who requires a nursemaid – in which capacity he served my father very well, as a matter of fact.”
“Then perhaps I should take him over, Sir Thomas,” said Farquarson.
Tom who was carving himself another slice of cold beef, shook his head.
“I have just saved you life. I do not mean to make it difficult for you. Besides I am sure you have a very good servant already. Military men always have good servants.”
“I had one, yes,” said Farquarson. “But the regiment suffered many great losses in our last engagement and Archie was one of them. He was as good a soldier as he was my servant.”
“I am sorry,” said Tom. “What is your regiment?”
“The Ninety-Third Sutherland Highlanders,” said the Colonel.
“Then you were at New Orleans?” Tom said.
The Colonel nodded, and Tom swallowed. He had read accounts of the battle. From what he had read, it was extraordinary that the Colonel had survived. It had been a very bloody and costly encounter.
“I can have no conception of that,” he said. “I have never had the courage to allow myself to be tested by war.”
“I do not doubt you would have distinguished yourself,” said the Colonel.
“I don’t know,” said Tom. “Everything in my life has always been easy for me. I have money, position and excellent health. I have been very fortunate. I have never had to struggle and suffer for something greater than myself. Because of that, I wonder if, when it came to the point, I might fail to do as I should.”
“You did as you should today,” said the Colonel.
“That was not courage,” said Tom. “It was necessity.”
“There is more of that in battle than courage, let me assure you,” said Farquarson, draining his glass.
“Then let us drink to necessity, since it seems I may congratulate myself on that,” said Tom, picking up the decanter and refilling the Colonel’s glass.
The Colonel smiled and raised his glass.
“So tell me, Sir Thomas what brings you to Cromer. You are not here for you health, I take it?” he enquired.
“No, I am here to get myself a wife,” said Tom.
“Then am I to congratulate you yet?”
“Yes, it is as good as fixed, although we have not begun on the settlements yet. By which I mean the lady has obliged me, but our families have not yet fully assented.”
“Do you think they will not?”
“My mother is against it. She does not think her good enough for me, which is nonsense of course.” The Colonel had assumed a bland, diplomatic expression. “Ah, I can tell what you are thinking, sir, and it is not the case. I have not fallen for a grocer’s daughter. No, the lady in question is the daughter of a Viscount and I believe she has twenty thousand pounds – not that I would care if she had not a farthing. But my mother cares, she cares very much indeed.”
“I believe I know the lady,” said the Colonel smiling. “Can we be speaking of Miss Rufford?”
“Yes,” said Tom, surprised.
“Then I should have met you at dinner tonight, Sir Thomas,” said Farquarson. “For I recall now that my aunt told me you were expected.”
“Lady Amberleigh is your aunt?” said Tom. “You must help me allay her fears. She is convinced that I am using Caroline to get out of the match that my mother wants for me, which is not the case at all. Miss Rufford is your cousin, then, Colonel – you know her – and that man could not use her for such an end.”
He found himself colouring as he spoke, suspecting Farquarson would be appalled if he knew how he had behaved.
“I know her only a little now,” said Farquarson. “I was better acquainted with her as a child, for I have been out of the country for ten years.”
“What was she like as a child?”
“Enchanting,” said Farquarson without hesitation. “Yes, you are very much to be congratulated.”
Tom felt distinctly uncomfortable. The Colonel’s admiration was very clear and very natural. Previously Tom knew he would have taken great pleasure in having secured for himself a woman who could rouse the admiration of other men. But now, he did not know what to do with Farquarson’s congratulations. He envied Farquarson’s straightforward response to Caroline’s very considerable charms, for he could no longer locate that response in himself without conscious effort.
Carefully he said, “I thank you sir, and I hope I shall prove to be worthy of your delightful cousin.”
“I am sure of it,” said Farquarson. “I shall have the pleasure of making my sister known to you tonight as well.”
“Is she with you here?”
“No, she stays with my aunt. She arrived only yesterday.”
“Miss Rufford did not say she was expected.”
“No, she was not. The party she was travelling with were obliged to make other arrangements and break off their tour. It was as well that Lady Amberleigh was here.”
There was a knock at the door and Gough came in.
“Forgive me, sir, for interrupting you, but I had to come directly up and tell you. Her ladyship your mother is come. And Lord Wansford and Lady Mary as well. They are all climbing out of a chaise this very minute.”