‘You’re a real blue-eyed boy, ain’t you?’ Fontenoy greeted him jauntily. ‘First a plum job at the Hyde Park Exhibition, now there’s an earl asking for you. What have you got that I haven’t, Royde? Apart from the blue eyes, I mean.’
The man had been a constant irritation since the very first day Lucas had joined the practice. This morning there was no bearing him.
‘What is it, Fontenoy?’
He barked out the question and his colleague took a step back. Gingerly he proffered a small sheet of white paper. ‘A message from the Earl of Carlyon, like I said,’ he mumbled.
Lucas grabbed the missive from Fontenoy’s hand, and his own was shaking just a little.
‘Hey!’ Fontenoy exclaimed sharply, ‘Is it that important?’ But he was quick to regain his own desk.
For a moment Lucas thought he’d been discovered, that the earl knew of his illicit love and wanted nothing more to do with him. He was convinced that the message announced his dismissal from any part in the project. But then he steadied himself and read.
Dear Mr Royde,
I know that you are not due at Southerham for some weeks, but I wonder if you would do me the kindness of making an earlier short stay. It will take only a few days of your time, and I feel the visit would prove highly beneficial for us both. Please do not go to the bother of reserving a room at the Royal, as I hope you will consent to be my guest at the Hall.
Sincerely,
Justin Carlyon
Not a dismissal but an invitation. Thank God. And to be asked to stay at Southerham Hall suggested that the earl was ready to approve formally the chapel plans and perhaps even confirm him as sole architect. Another reason to keep away from Alessia, he reasoned, just until his fortunes were settled.
He pushed back his chair in a rapid movement and went to knock at his employer’s door. ‘May I speak with you, Mr de Vere?’
Daniel De Vere looked up from the drawings he was perusing and said encouragingly, ‘Of course, Royde. How can I help?’
‘The Earl of Carlyon has written regarding the chapel plans.’
‘Ah yes, I saw his note,’ de Vere replied calmly. Was he the last to get his own message, Lucas thought?
‘Then you will know, sir, that his lordship has requested my presence at Southerham in the very near future.’
‘Indeed, yes, and I am happy for you to go. You appear to have established an excellent relationship with the earl.’ His employer leaned back expansively, his thumbs puckering either side of his floral waistcoat. ‘May I suggest that you leave for Norfolk tomorrow and return to the office first thing on Monday morning?’
He would at least have a day free. De Vere’s generosity no doubt sprung from his expectation of future commissions from the earl, now that his young employee appeared to be a welcome guest.
Returning to Red Lion Square that evening, Lucas took little time in packing a small valise for the few days he would be away. He carefully folded the reworked chapel plans into his portfolio bag and after a sparse supper decided on an early bedtime. He must be up early to catch the first train from Shoreditch. But once in bed, he tossed and turned into the small hours. Try as he might, Alessia invaded his mind and his body. He saw her lovely face stained by tears, her dark curls tumbling in disarray, felt her soft form cling to him as if to a rock in rapid waters. He would be there for her, he told himself, only a few weeks and he would be there for her for the rest of her life.
* * *
The next morning was foggy and bleak, the weather alternating now between brilliant spring sunshine and the occasional return to winter. He crawled from bed in a daze and shivered awake as he washed in cold water. He must dress with care for the day ahead. Even if the earl chose not to broach the subject of the chapel as soon as he arrived, Lucas needed to look his most professional. An invitation to the Hall imposed constant watchfulness.
He turned out of the square along Eagle Street and into Procter Street. At the intersection with High Holborn he was sure to find a hansom that would take him to Shoreditch and the train. He was feeling less burdened today as though the journey out of London was already casting adrift some of his cares. He had just reached the cab stand when a ragged boy appeared at his elbow and barred his way.
‘What’s this?’ He was puzzled, thinking the child was both too young and too weak to engage in successful robbery.
‘This is for you, mister.’
The note Lucas was handed had been written on expensive vellum but clutched in the child’s grubby claw-like hand, it resembled a crumpled and soiled napkin.
‘For me? Are you sure?’
‘I watched yer,’ the boy said staunchly. ‘Yer come out the ‘ouse in the Square, the one wi’ the yeller door. That’s what she said. Not to go up to the ‘ouse but wait till yer left. She said yer’d be carrying a bag, kinda strange shape—like that ‘un.’ And he pointed an accusing finger at the portfolio case hanging from Lucas’s left hand.
Lucas felt his heart plummet. He knew without looking that the message was from Alessia: the fine notepaper, the delicate handwriting. And what other woman would be writing to him. He unfolded the paper and saw that there was no address. Was that because she had written in such haste? He stood and read her letter with growing alarm.
Lucas, my darling,
Martha has told of my absence yesterday morning. Despite all my protestations, Edward refused to believe that I would go myself to fetch medicine for Georgina and so early in the day. He was very angry and accused me directly of going to meet my lover. Lucas, I love you so terribly, I could not deny it. He has decided that I am to leave London immediately, but that is not the worst. I am not to go to a home of my own but to my mother-in-law in St Albans. She is to watch over me most strictly and it will be she who has full control of my daughters. I have lost my children, Lucas! Edward does not say so, but I know that this is a punishment for my wrongdoing. His mother will turn my girls against me and I will be powerless to resist. I will be a despised prisoner. It is worse than anything I could have imagined.
Lucas broke off his reading and looked blankly into the distance. He was appalled, remembering Florence Renville all too well. After a minute he turned his eyes reluctantly back to the letter.
I am desperate, Lucas. I cannot go to St Albans. I know I would never survive such treatment. It has broken my heart to say goodbye to my darling ones, and now I have nothing left to lose. I have left Prospect Place and taken a room in a lodging house. I have brought nothing here that does not belong to me: a few clothes, a little money and my mother’s jewellery.
Come to me, my darling, as soon as you are able. I am depending on your great love.
Yours eternally
Alessia
His first thought was that the anguish she had suffered had caused a temporary insanity. To have left her family and taken a room in a lodging house! A respectable woman did not do such a thing. But was she any longer a respectable woman? Had he turned her into something else? Contrition gnawed at him.
‘You taking this cab, guv’nor?’ the jarvey asked, his chin jutting pugnaciously.
‘Yes, this minute,’ and Lucas threw his bags into the back of the hansom. No matter how dismayed he felt, he could not stay; he had to go to Southerham. The boy had his hand out and he fished in his pocket for a small coin. Then as the driver gathered the reins together, a thought sparked.
‘Can you return to the lady and speak to her privately?’ There was no time to write and it seemed that the boy could be trusted to act discreetly. ‘Wait until she leaves her lodgings and is alone and then follow her for a distance. Only approach her when she is well away from the house. Can you do that?’
‘What’s innit fer me?’
‘You will earn a silver sixpence.’
The boy whistled slowly. ‘What am I to say, guv?’
‘You are to reassure the lady that I have her note, but that I must go away for a few days. And you are to give her these,’ and Lucas pulle
d from his pocket two of his last three sovereigns. ‘Tell her that she must use this money until I return.’
The boy gave him a cheeky salute and wrapped the coins in a less than clean piece of linen. ‘Right guv’nor. I’ll do that.’
‘Now, this minute.’
‘Promise.’
He was unsure how much worth he could attach to the young boy’s promise, but he had to trust him to deliver his message and his money. The next moment he was in the cab and on a rapid journey to Shoreditch. He shrunk back against the stained swabs of the leather seat. Every instinct had urged him to abandon the journey and find her immediately, but reason had told him otherwise and reason had won. What good would be served by such a course? The earl would be insulted and his employer angry. All his plans would be destroyed in one stupid action. No, this was the better way. He would seek her out immediately he returned, and he would hope to have the very best of news to tell her.
But he had no direction! There had been no address on the letter: she must have been too distraught to discover where she was living. He cursed himself that he hadn’t had the sense to ask the boy from where exactly he’d collected the note. He had no means of contacting her but must wait for her to write again or send the boy to him with a verbal message.
At Norwich station he was met by the earl’s carriage. The luxury of its soft velvet fittings soothed his nerves a little, and he gradually relaxed on the swift drive to Southerham Hall. The sound of gravel beneath the carriage wheels roused him from a reverie. They were sweeping up the imposing driveway and coming to a halt at the pillared entrance. Almost immediately, the huge door of Georgian oak flew open and the butler stood on the threshold bowing Lucas up the front steps. A footman took his hat and gloves, another footman his bag and the housekeeper ushered him to his room. It was a large and airy chamber overlooking undulating lawns sculpted some years previously by Capability Brown. A fountain played in the middle distance and to one side flowed a quiet river. One of the casement windows was open, and he heard its gentle lapping in the distance.
A knock on the door heralded a curtseying maid. ‘May I unpack, sir?’
Lucas felt the first of many discomforts. He had only a small valise with him in addition to his drawings, and the thought of the charade he would have to endure while the maid pulled out shirt and trousers, a cravat, his one change of underwear and an assortment of slightly dog-eared brushes, made him blench.
‘That won’t be necessary, er…’
‘Bennett, sir.’
‘Bennett. But thank you.’ And he slipped the girl a sixpence in what he hoped was an accomplished manner. He could only pray that he would not be called upon to dispense too many tips over the next few days, as his funds were already low. He had provided himself with all the money he had to hand but then despatched most of it to Alessia. That at least gave him a warm feeling: it would provide her with comfortable shelter. He looked around, imagining her there beside him. This was a house of distinction and she would revel in it. It was a natural setting for her, and for him, too. This was what he was destined for. Only manage the next few weeks and they would have their reward, to be honoured guests in a distinguished household.
Dressing for dinner was a nervous business. He was forced to wear the same coat he had travelled in but donned a pair of newly purchased evening trousers, stiff white shirt and an expensive white cravat of the finest lace. He blessed Marguerite for the latter.
Drinks were served in the library, and he found the earl waiting for him.
‘Come in, my dear fellow.’ Carlyon exuded good nature and Lucas felt his shoulders loosen their tight grip. He hadn’t realised how tense he was; he was moving in an unfamiliar milieu and desperate to make a good impression.
The earl poured sherry from one of the several crystal decanters that sat in line atop a marquetry console. ‘I am delighted you were able to honour me with your presence, Mr Royde. We have much to talk about.’
‘Indeed, your lordship.’
Lucas was cautious. He was desperate for Lord Carlyon to endorse the informal agreement they had made on his previous visit, but he needed to tread warily. If the earl had changed his mind in the interim, he would be forced to reiterate his loyalty to Daniel de Vere and quickly approve his employer’s vision for the Southerham chapel. At this moment he had no clear idea which way the dice would fall. It was as though he was astride two horses simultaneously, both blinkered but heading in very different directions.
‘I have been studying your revised plans with care,’ the earl went on. ‘We will go through them in detail tomorrow of course, but I wanted you to know that I accept them without reservation. In fact, I am delighted with them, my dear chap.’
Lucas glowed. The earl’s response was better than he could ever have hoped.
‘Yes, you have done an excellent job, Mr Royde. The new design is exactly right for the chapel, respectful of its tradition but innovative, too, and quite beautiful.’
There was a pause while both men sipped delicately from their glasses. Then Lord Carlyon said in a careful tone, ‘You must not mistake me. I respect Daniel de Vere enormously, but in this case I do not feel his suggestions have quite caught the ambience of Southerham.’
Dinner that evening was what the earl described as a cosy affair. They were only two at the table, but despite this Lucas faced a bewildering array of courses: Julienne soup, a turbot in lobster sauce and a red mullet, followed by roast quarter of lamb and Spring Chicken, then by quails and green peas and finally a Charlotte Russe and Neapolitan cakes, washed down with copious glasses of Madeira. He ate doggedly on, allowing the earl to monopolise the conversation. His lordship seemed to like to talk, and Lucas was happy for him to do so. It gave him the chance to think, to turn over and over in his mind the words of praise he’d heard. He hugged them to himself, arranging them and rearranging them in his head, determining the way he would tell Alessia of his success. There was still the matter of signing a private contract, but by the time the port made its appearance, he had decided not to broach the subject until the morrow. Tonight he would simply relax in the knowledge that he was on his way.
The next morning he breakfasted alone. Yet another resplendent choice of dishes lay in wait beneath cavernous silver covers. He satisfied what small appetite he had with a modest plate of scrambled eggs and bacon, leaving untouched the devilled kidneys and smoked haddock in pastry. Then he made his way back to the library and had barely begun a scrutiny of the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves when the earl arrived in a flurry of notes and illustrations he thought might prove useful. He seemed as eager as Lucas to discuss the intricacies of rebuilding his family chapel and was soon heavily engaged in deciding with him the number and variety of craft workers, tradesmen and labourers that would be needed.
‘It seems a complex task,’ the earl remarked at one point.
‘It is complex,’ Lucas admitted, ‘but not insurmountable. It would be easier if I were not employed in London.’ He smiled winningly, his blue eyes guileless.
‘We talked a little, did we not, of your contract with de Vere and Partners?’
This was just the opening he needed. ‘In fact, your lordship, I have no precise contractual term. I joined the practice in order to learn new skills and if I am honest, I would have to admit that I have now learnt all I can.’
The earl said no more and Lucas decided he would have to take the plunge and put his cards on the table.
‘Your lordship, may I speak frankly?’ The earl inclined his head slightly. ‘If you would be prepared to confirm me as your private architect, I would be able to give the project my full attention. I could move to lodgings locally and be on hand to supervise the entire construction.’
And I could bring Alessia to live with me where nobody knows her, he thought. We could rent together as man and wife, ruralise quietly until any scandal has died down. In time there would be sufficient money to afford divorce proceedings. Then we could be husband and wife in God�
�s eyes, too.
Lord Carlyon meanwhile said nothing. He had his eyes fixed on the carpet and Lucas wondered if he’d gone too far. Then a shaft of light.
‘I like your proposal,’ the earl said ruminatively. ‘And I would pay you well.’ He mentioned a fee that made Lucas feel faint with pleasure. ‘But I am concerned about de Vere. He’s a good man, and I don’t want to poach his best employee.’
‘He is the best.’ Lucas hoped his enthusiasm was sufficiently hearty. ‘But I know Mr de Vere would not wish to stand in the way of my advancement. And to work exclusively for your lordship would represent a huge step forward for me.’
‘It would be courteous to discuss your change of employment with Mr de Vere as soon as possible.’
‘I agree, your lordship, but it might be helpful if we were to postpone our discussion until after the first of May. Mr de Vere needs my aid in seeing through a contract with a difficult client, and I have promised him all the support I can give.’
‘Your consideration does you credit, Mr Royde.’ Lucas had the grace to colour. ‘You can be sure that I will not contact Mr de Vere until the date has passed. I think I shall go up to London and take the fellow out to luncheon. Easier, you know, to break bad news when you’re eating well.’
Dinner that evening followed much the same pattern as the previous day’s with the exception of an additional guest and even more food. The earl had invited one of his closest neighbours, a Mr Fennimore, to eat with them. Lucas let the two friends talk together but listened with attention. It seemed that Francis Fennimore, though lacking a title, was an extremely wealthy landowner, wealthier even than Lord Carlyon. He had recently bought a semi-derelict mansion ten miles the other side of Norwich with the idea of creating a home for his two unmarried sisters. Since he inherited Dereham Abbey on his father’s death, he had been forced to house the unhappy women, and his wife found their presence a constant irritation. Mr Fennimore himself had grown tired of the continual disputes.
The Crystal Cage Page 25