‘They know.’ Amelia was more concerned that on their last visit her children had called Elliot’s daughter Tatty Anna because she was still wearing diapers. ‘I’m more concerned that they’ve gotten the child into knickers. Well – nearly three and still in diapers, last time we were here.’ Nanny Eva had seen to it, she recalled smugly, that Kitty had been dry as a bone at two and a half.
‘Nappies. They’re called nappies in England,’ Albert corrected absently. ‘And we can’t criticize what Russian mothers do. Let’s play it by ear, when we get there?’
Four weeks would soon pass, he supposed. Left to him, they wouldn’t visit half so often. Had it not been for Amelia’s insistence on family togetherness, he’d be content never to leave Kentucky. And the annual visits did, he supposed, serve to remind him how miserable had been his lot as a younger son and how very right he had been to marry Amelia. ‘Think I’ll go up on deck – see what the youngsters are getting up to.’
He kissed his wife’s cheek with genuine affection and so aware was he of his extreme good fortune that when his daughter said, ‘Hi, daddy. We’ve just been talking about Tatty. D’you figure she’ll be old enough to play with us, this visit?’ he didn’t have the heart to correct her.
‘Oh, at four and a bit I think she will be.’ He smoothed Kitty’s wind-whipped curls. ‘And if she isn’t, there’s always Drew.’ Young Andrew. The baby born in the nick of time to take the title Mama so desperately wanted for Elliot. Albert liked young Drew Sutton. ‘Look – there’s England.’ He pointed to the tall buildings emerging from the blur of the skyline. ‘Soon be on dry land again.’
‘I’m going away for a week or so, Dwerryhouse – up north,’ Ralph Hillier announced suddenly as he and his gamekeeper walked the game covers. ‘There’s no need to shout it all over the place, though you’ll know where I’m off to.’
‘I’ve a fair idea, sir.’ The estate workers at Windrush had not joined in the General Strike but shown their sympathy for the miners by collecting fifteen pounds for them. It was an amazing sum by any comparison and Ralph Hillier had swelled it by a massive one hundred and fifty pounds. ‘You’ll be taking all that money with you?’
‘To the miners at Torvey Main, where I once worked. Will I be coming across any of your family, Dwerryhouse?’
‘I doubt it. Dad made sure Jack and me never went down the pit.’ His elder sister was married to a farmer and his younger one doing very nicely in bespoke tailoring. ‘But I appreciate what you are doing. There’ll be a few hollow bellies around Torvey afore the miners give in. Some say they’ll stick it out for months. It’s the bairns I worry about.’
‘Do you think I hadn’t thought about them, too.’ Absently, Ralph Hillier bent to fondle the head of the labrador bitch at his heels. ‘Apart from the money there’ll be a van load of food going up there, too. I’ll leave it at the Miners’ Institute; they’ll see it gets into the right hands.’ He picked up a stick, throwing it. ‘Fetch, Beth.’ He smiled as the young bitch carried back the stick in a gentle mouth. ‘That’s a fine gun dog I’ve got. I was looking at that spaniel of yours, Dwerryhouse. He’s slowing down a bit.’
‘Morgan! Aye – it’s to be expected. Not quite sure how old he is; fifteen, happen. He’s Alice’s dog, though he’s more attached to Daisy. Alice brought him with her when she came here to wed me. When will you be going to Torvey, sir?’
‘Tomorrow, all being well.’
‘Alice plans to go north next week – her and Daisy. She wants to see Reuben. He’s getting old, like Morgan.’
‘You’ll miss them.’
‘Aye, but Reuben is her only blood kin. He was good to her when she was a bairn. She’s fond of him. And I don’t begrudge the visit. It’s like going home, for Alice. She was sewing-maid, once, at Rowangarth.’ It was all he was prepared to say about the matter; about anything that concerned Alice’s past, no matter what talk might be circulating in the village. ‘You’ll give my regards to anyone who might remember me, sir – when you get to Torvey …?’
Igor Petrovsky arrived at Denniston House uninvited and unannounced. It was a surprise to everyone save his mother, who had graphically related Anna’s situation in a lengthy phone call to Cheyne Walk.
‘Please to have my car garaged,’ he instructed the footman who answered the door. ‘Where is Mr Sutton?’
‘Sir – might I have your name?’
‘There is no need to announce me. Where is he?’ tely, the servant pointed to the library. Igor nodded his thanks, then walked swiftly to the double doors, flinging them open, closing them firmly behind him. The footman hesitated, then tiptoed to stand with an ear to the doors. ‘Why, Igor! Come in, old fellow. Nice to see you!’ That was the master, putting on the charm.
‘I wish I was able to say the same but I cannot. I do not find it in the least nice to see you. Indeed, I am angry that my mother insisted this visit is necessary.’
The listening servant walked softly away. He could wait. They would hear the outcome of it before so very much longer for Denniston House had one advantage, from a servant’s point of view. Sound carried well.
He hurried to the kitchens, there to warn all staff to be alert to the ringing of bells, for a ringing of bells there would be, he smiled, wondering if Russians still fought duels.
Duels. Count Petrovsky slapping the master’s face with a glove, provoking a fight like it happened in the films. More was the pity that duelling wasn’t allowed here any longer. It would have been a grand sight seeing Elliot Sutton led out to pistols at dawn.
The thought pleased him and he smiled again. Not pistols, but trouble, for all that. Trouble for the master, if he wasn’t mistaken!
‘Tea, you lot!’ Julia called, ‘In the conservatory!’
They ran towards her, calling, laughing. Bas, Kitty, Drew and Tatiana. Tatiana with her nanny, of course. And tomorrow there would be Daisy. Alice and Daisy coming to Rowangarth. Tomorrow, at four, they’d be arriving. She would take Drew to meet them, at York. Dear, dear Alice …
‘What’s for tea, Aunt Julia? I’m starving.’ Kitty, so fleet of foot, ahead of the rest. ‘Is it cherry scones?’
Cook’s special-day scones – ever since Julia could remember, and today was special, because the children were together again. Drew’s cousins, the young-generation Suttons. Five, there would be, when Daisy arrived. Daisy was counted a Sutton, too. Five beautiful children who always opted to play at Rowangarth and never at Pendenys or Denniston House.
‘I’ll see to them, Mrs MacMalcolm.’ Nanny, carrying Tatiana, murmured, red-faced from running.
‘Sure you can cope – they’re an unruly lot,’ Julia grinned.
‘I’ll manage, ma’am.’ Children were no trouble at all, when they were eating. Compared to some grown-ups she could mention, children were little angels.
‘I’ll leave you to it, then. If they get out of hand yell for me. I’ll be in the library.’ Though why the library, she really couldn’t think. Usually, if not in the conservatory, afternoon tea was taken in the small parlour.
‘Sit down, dear,’ Helen murmured as her daughter pushed open the door. ‘Are the children all right?’
‘Right as rain. Denniston nanny is in charge. Why the library?’
‘Why indeed? A whim, I suppose. This was Giles’s room, really, and I thought if I told you in here that Giles would be a part of it, too.’
‘Told me? Dearest, you’re not ill?’ Richard James had visited yesterday. ‘Did Doc James –’
‘Richard merely reminded me that in a few more weeks he and Effie are retiring to Scotland. And I shall miss them so, Julia. All my friends gone – or going.’
Judge Mounteagle dead and his wife in Kenya, now, with her eldest son; Luke Parkin – dear Luke – dead, and his wife in a home for clergy widows, in Bath; Edwin and Tessa almost always in France and Martin and Letty Lane in Italy. A minor post in a consulate there, but gratefully accepted. Two more years before she saw Martin and Letty again. So lonely
, now. Just she, Julia and Drew. And memories.
‘But that was all?’ Julia insisted. ‘He didn’t give you a check-up, or anything?’
‘He didn’t need to. I am well, Julia, but growing old. I’m sixty-five, next birthday – had you thought?’
‘I hadn’t.’ Her mother was still beautiful. She could never be old. ‘But why, suddenly, all this serious talk – because there is something; I can see it in your eyes.’
‘Not serious, exactly. Pour, will you, before the tea spoils? I was going to keep it, but then I realized that Alice will be coming tomorrow and I wouldn’t be able to get a word in edgewise. Best I tell you now.’
‘Tell me what?’
‘It’s called taking stock for my old age, I suppose. And this isn’t a sudden decision. I’ve talked it over with the Carvers; all three of them. They fully agree with me. They’re seeing to it – selling the tea garden, I mean …’
‘Selling it? Letting Shillong go?’ She couldn’t be. The Rowangarth Suttons had always grown tea. Julia’s cup hit the saucer with a clatter; tea slopped over. ‘Dearest, you can’t!’
‘I can. I have – well, almost. Young Carver advised me to take the offer.’
‘Him!’ She might have known, Julia brooded. Shifty-eyed. She had never liked young Carver. ‘What offer?’
‘Lyons made one, almost six months ago; an offer too good not to consider. Sutton Premier is very fine tea. They were anxious to have the garden.’
‘But can you sell it?’
‘Without asking you – is that what you’re trying to say?’
‘Well – yes. And tea has always kept Rowangarth going. You know as well as I do that Rowangarth estate is only just ticking over, holding its own.’
‘And what we get for the garden, properly invested, will leave us financially sound.’
‘Young Carver said so, I suppose!’
‘No. Carver the elder. When it comes to investing capital, there’s none to touch him. Your father always said so.’
‘But how can you – face me with a fait accompli, I mean. Out of the blue …’
‘Not out of the blue. I’ve thought long and carefully about it. And I shall sell, Julia. Your Uncle Edward agrees.’
‘So you’ve told him?’
‘Like you, Uncle Edward holds shares. He will sell his, he has assured me. You had none, but you inherited your Aunt Sutton’s. Your Pa left his shares to me, as did Robert. Giles’s will go to Drew, and I am Drew’s legal guardian. So there’ll only be you, Julia, with ten per cent, holding out.’
‘In short, I’m outvoted?’
‘Yes.’ It was a simple, final confirmation. ‘You would be all right for money, dear.’
‘But I don’t want any more money! I have Aunt Sutton’s money and her house. And I have what Pa left me and Grandmother Whitecliffe’s jewellery must be worth quite a bit. I have the army widow’s pension, too. I don’t need money, mother.’
‘I shall sell,’ Helen said quietly. ‘Please let’s not fall out over this – not you and I? I am doing the right thing, I know it. Think about it, won’t you?’
‘But we’ve always had the tea garden.’
‘Yes. And one condition of the sale is that two chests of tea will still be sent each year to Rowangarth, just as they always have been. And I’m glad Alice is coming tomorrow. She is still Drew’s mother; she’ll have to be told.’
‘You don’t ever want to let Alice go, do you?’
‘Not if I’m honest. She was Giles’s wife; my daughter, for just a little while. And she gave us Drew. I wish she were still here – she and Dwerryhouse.’
‘And Daisy.’
‘Daisy, too. I shall never stop hoping they’ll come back to us. But you do understand – about selling the tea garden? It really is for the best. All Drew’s time, when he grows up, will be spent looking after Rowangarth. We can’t go on for ever, being absent owners. It’s well-managed, now, but I’m facing old age, Julia. I want things cut and dried. I’m tackling all my problems and worries and trying to leave everything straight and sound for Drew, that’s all.’
‘You’re right, of course. When I draw breath and think about it, I shall know you have done the best thing for us all. But dearest – don’t talk about getting old? Not you?’
‘Very well. Not for a little while, at least. And do you think we could ring for more tea – there’s something else, you see …’
‘Dearest – not more problems?’
‘Not a problem – more a worry faced.’ Helen rose and walked to the far window. ‘Come here. Look …’ She drew aside the lace curtain, pointing down into the stableyard. ‘What do you think to it? It’s a thank you to my daughter for – well, for being my daughter, I suppose. And an atonement …’
‘Mother!’
From below, yellow duster poised, Will Stubbs tipped his cap, grinning. Will liked motors, had learned a lot about them during his war years.
The little car beside which he stood was square and black and shiny. Its radiator was brass-banded, its running-boards rubber-covered. At the back end was a folding luggage rack.
‘It’s for you, Julia. They call it a baby Austin, I believe. Stubbs said it’ll do forty miles an hour, but there isn’t the need to go that quickly, is there? Oh – and the windscreen is made of special safety glass.’ She looked anxiously over her shoulder, her eyes searching for Julia’s. ‘Stubbs says it’s a little beauty – a woman’s car.’
‘But dearest.’ The car outline blurred and Julia blinked tears from her eyes. ‘You hate motors. No motors at Rowangarth – not ever, you said.’ Not since Pa had killed himself in one.
‘I’m afraid cars are here to stay,’ Helen murmured. ‘And this one is a baby.’ So small and sweet a motor, surely, would be safe enough? ‘I’ve been selfish, Julia. I had no right to forbid you your own car. I had a word with Pa – he told me it was all right.’
‘Darling!’ Julia held her mother close. ‘How I wish I could talk to Andrew as easily as you can talk to Pa.’
‘You could, child, if only you’d be still; if only you could stop hating the war, hating the world for parting you from him. Accept it, as I learned to do and then perhaps one day, when your mind is quiet you’ll hear him, with your heart. It’s time for you to take stock, Julia, as I am doing.’
‘But I’ve made a Will – it’s with Mark Townsend.’
‘I’m not talking about possessions.’ Helen shook her head impatiently. ‘I’m talking about memories. It’s almost eight years, and you haven’t been to France, yet, to Andrew’s grave. That can’t be right, dear.’
‘Perhaps not. But if I go and see his name on a gravestone – then it’ll be final, don’t you see? We never said goodbye, he and I – don’t make me do it, mother?’
‘I won’t. Really, it isn’t any of my business – but I wish you’d go. You owe it to Andrew and you owe it to yourself. But let’s go and see this little motor and perhaps you can give it a try on the estate roads, get the feel of it.’ She pulled Julia’s arm into her own. ‘Stubbs is longing to explain it all to you.’
‘And shall you learn to drive it, mother?’
‘Not I! I shall stick to my pony and cart, but when you’re better at it, I might let you drive me into the village. Oh, hurry, do!’
Count Igor Petrovsky stood, back to the fireplace, glaring across the room at Elliot Sutton.
‘We have to talk, you and I. Aleksandrina Petrovska is my sister and my responsibility, therefore. My mother is not happy about the way it is, here. I think you should explain yourself to me.’
‘And Anna Sutton is my wife, and wholly my responsibility and I would remind you of that. Nor do I give a damn about what your mother thinks. Who asked her to interfere, anyway?’
‘No one asked her, but I am here and you will listen. My sister is not well and we think she would get better the sooner if she returned with us to London.’
‘Away from me, you mean?’
‘Exactly.’
‘Her company? What you really mean, Sutton, is that you have a right to her bed? But you have forfeited that right! Oh, I grant you it is Anna’s duty to be with you, and I know she will return when she is fully well again.
‘But when she does come back, then Karl will come with her. He will be her personal servant and a member of your household staff. He will care for her as he did in London – before she married you – and if you make her unhappy, then I shall know about it.’
‘You’re mad. Mad! You’re all the same, you Ruskies. Couldn’t stand it in the trenches, could you? Walked out, the lot of you – left it to us to sort out your mess and guard your Front!’
‘And how would you know that, Mister Sutton? You were nowhere near any Front – east or west. You never fired a shot! But we are not here to talk about how you managed to keep your boots clean for four years; I have come to tell you that my mother intends to stay at Denniston House with Anna until she is strong enough to travel. There is to be no argument!’
‘And my wife? Does she go along with your wild scheme? Does she want to desert me? Didn’t you know that in England desertion and the refusal of conjugal rights are grounds for divorce?’
‘And do you know that in my family there is no divorce? So you will forget your threats. I do not intend to give you carte blanche to kill my sister with yet another pregnancy. You are an animal!’
‘And you!’ White now with anger, Elliot pointed a shaking finger to the door. ‘You will get out of this house or I’ll have you thrown out! Is that clear?’
‘No. Suddenly, I am not understanding your English so well. But is this clear?’ With two great strides he had crossed the distance between them. Grasping Elliot by his jacket lapels he raised him off the floor, holding him so that his feet dangled as if they belonged to a rag doll. Then, laughing, he flung him back into his chair again. ‘There now – did you understand; understand that I am young and fit and that I would like nothing more than to thrash you as you deserve?
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