The FitzOsbornes in Exile (5 page)

“Months?”
said Simon. “Don’t you mean ‘a week or two’? Anyway, I’m going up to London in a few days, so I’ll talk to your House Master and bring all your books back. Veronica can tutor you in Latin and History, Sophia can help with English Literature, then you just need to practice your music. Now, what’s next on your agenda?”

“Simon, you are No Fun,” Toby declared. “Hmm, what
is
next? Oh—Simon, could you find Alice and the other villagers, let them know what’s happened, and give them our new address? And we really must organize honors for all the nice people who saved our lives. Ant, the Basque captain, and Colonel Stanley-Ross. We’ll need to borrow Aunt Charlotte’s Order of the Sea Monster—”

“Order of Benedict,” Veronica corrected.

“—to have a few new ones made up. It’s a sort of round silver thing with a blue sash, isn’t it? We should probably have an official ceremony, but that might be difficult if the Captain’s at sea. Can you track him down? His name’s Captain Zuleta. Veronica, what’s his first name?”

Simon was making a note of this in his little black memorandum book when one of the footmen came in and said that Aunt Charlotte needed Simon’s help with some correspondence.

“Poor Simon,” said Toby, watching him stride back down the corridor. “He’ll never have a moment’s rest now.”

“Poor
Simon
!” repeated Veronica scornfully, picking up her newspaper. “I wouldn’t waste any pity on him. He’s
exactly
where he wants to be.”

The next day, a car from the clinic in Poole came to collect Rebecca and Simon. It was thought Rebecca’s departure might be more easily accomplished if the rest of us were out of the way. Lady Astley’s invitation to luncheon had therefore been most welcome, although I still felt rather nervous about it.

“Who’s going to be there?” I asked Toby as Parker shut my door and went round to the front of the car. “You have to tell me their proper titles and what we’re supposed to call them. I always get barons and baronets mixed up.”

Henry waved mournfully from the front door. Her new governess was due to arrive any moment, so Aunt Charlotte had insisted Henry stay behind with her. We all waved back.

“It’s just the Stanley-Rosses and Ant, as far as I know,” said Toby. “And Julia’s father is Lord Astley—a baron,
not
a baronet.”

“But what’s the difference?”

“It’s quite simple,” said Veronica. “English peers are, from most important to least: dukes, marquesses, earls, viscounts, and barons. Then there are baronets, but they can’t sit in the House of Lords, and knights, who can’t pass on their title to their eldest sons.”

“It’s not simple at all,” I said. “Why is he Lord Astley if his children are called Stanley-Ross?”

“The title’s Astley, his family name is Stanley-Ross,” said Toby. “Don’t worry about it.
He
blusters a bit, but Lady Astley is awfully sweet, she’ll adore you. As for the others—well, David’s the eldest and he’s married to the niece of Lady Bosworth. I don’t know if he’ll be around, though. Penelope, his wife, prefers London. There’s a second son, Charles, but I’ve only met him once. He’s the black sheep, off gold-digging in Ontario or Otago or somewhere. Then there’s Julia, of course, and Ant—I mean,
Lord Whittingham.
”

“Only son of an earl, so he gets to use the courtesy title of Viscount,” put in Veronica.

“And then Rupert’s the youngest,” said Toby. “Oh, I haven’t seen him for
months
. I can’t wait for you all to meet him!”

“Isn’t he back at school now?” I asked. “Or does he still have the flu?”

“He’s much better,” said Toby. “But he had rheumatic fever when he was a baby and nearly died, so his mother tends to fuss a bit. Not that he’s
all
that keen to return to school.”

“Sounds like someone I know,” said Veronica.

“What are you talking about?” said Toby indignantly. “I’m the
walking wounded
! Worse, the
limping
wounded. There’s no way I could manage all those stairs at school. Besides, you haven’t any idea how nasty and rough and
brutish
schoolboys can be. What if someone pushed me over in a dim, rarely used corridor, and I lay there like a tortoise on its back, neglected, forgotten, becoming weaker and weaker, until years later, my skeleton was discovered, one leg still encased in plaster—”

Veronica laughed, for what seemed like the first time in weeks, and Toby looked very pleased.

“But tell us more about Rupert,” I said. “Does he really hate school? I thought you said he was clever.”

“Oh, he is. He’s always reading. But he’s even worse than me at Games. And it doesn’t help that both his brothers were in Pop—that’s the Eton Society—and David was Captain of the Eleven and scored a century against Harrow. Still, only another six months and we’re both free.”

“Which reminds me,” said Veronica. “When are the Oxford entrance examinations?”

“Around Easter, I think. Why? Are you putting your name down for them?”

“Yes, I’m sure Aunt Charlotte would be delighted to fund
my
university education,” said Veronica sardonically. “I’m talking about
you
. Have you even picked up a book in the past week?”

“I
have
had other matters on my mind, you know!”

I tuned out their squabble, because the view was so much more interesting. My only previous car trip had been at night. Now I gazed my fill, at farmland divided into neat shapes by hedges and stone walls, at velvety hills with the white chalk beneath showing through in patches, at clumps of dark old woodland. We motored past Salisbury, catching a tantalizing glimpse of the cathedral spire, and Toby promised he’d take us there once he could walk around properly.

“Do we go past Stonehenge on our way?” I asked.

Toby shook his head. “No, but it’s not too far from here. We could visit it on the way back if there’s time.”

“I
do
feel sorry for Henry, missing all this,” I said with a sigh, settling back against the leather seat.

“I feel sorrier for the new governess,” said Toby. “I wonder how long she’ll last.”

We discussed this as we drove along beside a slate-green river. I thought at least six months, as Henry’s behavior seemed so much improved lately. Toby said three weeks. Veronica felt it depended on the lady’s employment history.

“If, for instance, she’s worked in a prison or a zoo, she might have developed the appropriate skills and become a bit hardier,” Veronica pointed out.

We turned off the main road, and Toby directed our attention to a large pile of gray stone with some chimneys poking out the top.

“Astley Manor,” he announced, although it took another couple of miles of winding lane before we reached the gates.

“Is it really Elizabethan?” I asked, leaning forward.

“Well, the original part is,” said Toby. “There’s a Georgian wing and some hideous Victorian bits pretending to be medieval. Lady Astley wants to modernize the bathrooms and the kitchen, but I doubt they’ll ever get round to it. With three sons to put through Eton and Oxford, it takes all their spare money just keeping the roof tiles on.”

The car rolled to a stop near a doorway set into a thick stone wall. Shreds of bronze-colored ivy dangled from the lintel, where someone had attempted to cut the vines back. Further up, they grew unhindered, twining round a weathered coat of arms, half obscuring the diamond-paned windows, and seemingly holding one battered chimney in place. A couple of shabby evergreens reclined against the wall, and thistles popped their fuzzy heads out of the cracks in the path. As we climbed from the car, the door of the house was flung open and Julia rushed out, followed by a confusion of people.

“My dears!” Julia cried. “Have you had the most
dreadful
trip? That horrid, winding road—but, Sophie, what an adorable hat! And, Veronica, how
are
you? Ant told me—oh, Toby, you poor darling, do watch out for that paving stone, you
know
the place is falling to bits. Ant, take Veronica’s arm, no, the other one.
Rupert
! Where is that—oh, there you are. Put that creature down at once, and come and meet the girls.”

A thin boy with something brown and fluffy draped across his left arm hurried over. “Sorry,” he panted. “I was just putting her—How do you do?”

He held out his right hand, which I shook. The brown thing turned out to be the world’s floppiest rabbit, who blinked at me, then went back to sleep.

“Is she all right?” I asked, looking at the neat bandage tied around her front paw.

“Oh, yes. It’s just that she jumped off the sofa yesterday, knocked over a glass of sherry, and stepped on the—”

“Drunk
again
, I suppose,” said Toby, limping over. He gave his friend a one-armed hug. “I’ve never known a rabbit to spend so much time getting blotto. Now, aren’t you going to tell me how haggard and washed-out I look?”

“You look exactly the same as ever,” said Rupert with a smile. “Except for a tiny bit of plaster on your leg. Stop fishing for compliments.”

“Rupert only cares about injuries if they happen to poor dumb beasts,” explained Toby.

“But why are we standing round out
here
?” wailed Julia. We instantly found ourselves in a long hall, maids divesting us of coats and gloves under the stern gaze of some Stanley-Ross ancestors rendered in dark, dusty-looking oils. Then the butler whisked us down a corridor into a cozy wood-paneled drawing room, where Lady Astley was waiting. Without rising from her seat or even saying very much, she gave the distinct impression she’d been looking forward to our visit for weeks. She was an older, languid version of Julia—warmhearted and very pretty, but lacking Julia’s boundless energy. Julia seemed to have inherited that from her father, who stomped into the room in his tweeds, barking orders at the servants, organizing us into our seats, summoning up a footstool for Toby, marching over to poke at the roaring fire, then wheeling round to hurl questions at me.

I’d never before had to converse with so many new people at once. Faced with Lady Astley’s amiable murmurs, Lord Astley’s good-natured but brusque enquiries, and Julia’s usual barrage of talk, I found myself sinking deeper and deeper into my armchair, my tongue tying itself in knots. On one side of me, Anthony was telling Veronica about his aeroplane’s latest mechanical mishap; on the other, Toby and Rupert were deep in an equally unintelligible conversation about mutual friends and enemies at Eton. I could only be thankful that David and his wife were still in London.

After about twenty minutes of this, Julia jumped up and offered a tour of the house before luncheon. Lord Astley accompanied us as far as the library, where he was highly gratified by Veronica’s interest in his diplomat grandfather’s bound memoirs. Julia and I left them there and continued upwards, through a maze of rooms and corridors.

“It’s all so poky and jumbled,” apologized Julia, shoving open a door to reveal a bedroom that had been divided down the middle with a plywood wall, leaving a half window in each side.

“Oh, no,” I said sincerely. “I think it’s wonderful.” I didn’t say it reminded me of home, even though it did, because I was trying not to think too much about Montmaray.

“You
are
sweet,” she said, beaming. “We adore it, of course, but it’s hopelessly impractical, falling down round our ears. And compared to Milford Park—well! Everything’s so beautifully designed there,
such
a sense of space and light, but not so large that it’s impossible to run. Imagine, your aunt’s dear old husband buying that entire estate for her as a wedding present! And then all the renovations and landscaping … Goodness, I wish
our
uncle had had the sense to buy up a lot of coal mines fifty years ago—but don’t tell Ant I said that, he’s awfully thingy about the poor old coal miners. Anyway,
this
was David and Charlie’s room before they went off to school, but they kept trying to murder each other, so it was thought best to divide the room in two. David took a suite over in the East Wing after he got married, and now his wife wants to put in new windows and a glass bathtub, and she’s driving Daddy completely mad. Here we are,
this
is mine.”

We entered a narrow room into which had been squashed a four-poster bed, several wardrobes, and an immense glass-topped dressing table. “I have the
greatest
favor to ask,” Julia said, yanking open a drawer. “Would you be an absolute angel and take some of these old things away with you? They’ll fit
you
, with your tiny waist—oh, try this frock on. It has a beaded wrap, here it is …”

And Julia proceeded to off-load what seemed like half her wardrobe on me. I kept protesting, but she wouldn’t listen. Instead, she rang for her maid, who pinned up some skirts for me and promised to have them hemmed before we left.

“Oh, Julia, I can’t possibly—”

“But they’re
ancient
, darling, and they don’t fit me and I can’t exactly pass them on to Rupert, can I? Besides, when I think of how it must have
been
for you, leaving all your things behind …” Her eyes welled. I didn’t point out that the clothes I’d left behind had hardly been worth saving. “Well, thank
heavens
you’re all safe now,” Julia concluded with a sniff. “I just wish I had something that could fit Veronica, but she’s so tall, isn’t she?” Julia dropped her voice. “And of course, she doesn’t love clothes and things as
we
do.”

I had to admit this was true. Then the gong rang for luncheon, and we went downstairs. The food was wonderful. There was roast pork with sage-and-onion stuffing and applesauce and julienned vegetables, then rhubarb tart with custard, then biscuits and cheese. Lord Astley and Anthony discussed politics with Veronica, the men tactfully avoiding any mention of Germany. Lady Astley, Julia, and Toby gossiped about a lot of people I’d never heard of. Rupert joined in occasionally but was mostly silent. At one stage, I saw him lean down to check on his rabbit, who was laid out underneath his chair. It was difficult to detect anything of Julia in him; it made me wonder what his brothers were like. He had fair, straight hair that slanted across his forehead, big hazel eyes, and a sprinkling of freckles across his nose. He looked several years younger than Toby, although I knew he was actually five months older. I had a better chance to study him after luncheon, when Toby urged him to show me the garden (Julia having been called to the telephone and Veronica drawn irresistibly towards the library, as though it were a giant magnet and she were made of iron filings).