Brothers at Arms

by Brothers at Arms (epub)

  Charlie leapt forward and pulled her back. “No, Sophie,” he said. “You can look at the horses later.”

  She made no demur when he propelled her towards the waiting coach, but once inside, peered through the rain-splattered window and started to make a strange warbling sound.

  “Is she all right?” Tom wondered what was happening.

  Charlie sighed contentedly, and nodded. “Yes, sir,” he said. “Sophie only sings when she is happy. It does not happen often, but it is a good sign. It was seeing the horses.”

  The thought brought a lump to Tom’s throat. “In that case, I hope she will be happy at Linmore. We have many horses there.”

  It was not his only hope. He wanted them to find peace and the security of knowing they were wanted. He still felt anger on the children’s behalf for the way their uncle discharged his obligations, but it was something to which Lucius Cobarne would have to come to terms.

  If truth be told, Tom did not know how best to prepare the children for what lay ahead. If he advertised the size of Linmore Hall, with the servants, it sounded like a boast, and yet they needed to know what to expect. He had his suspicions about their uncle’s establishment, but that was all they were – his assumptions; how to discover the truth, though, he did not know.

  In the event, Mary Kilcot was instrumental in his discovery, when she clambered into the coach after a break in their journey.

  “Come over here, young Sophie,” the nursemaid said. “Let us girls sit together.”

  He knew the girl intended to be friendly, but instead of complying, Sophie scowled and edged closer to her brother, leaving Charlie to explain.

  “I’m afraid she isn’t used to girls. Uncle Lucius only employed older women as domestic servants. Aunt Barleycorn said the young ones were lazy.”

  “Aunt…Barleycorn? I thought your uncle’s wife was Matilda.” That was what Jane told him.

  “Yes, sir.” Charlie flushed with embarrassment. “Aunt Tilda was his wife. She was there when we first went to live with them, but after she died, the year before last, he married the housekeeper.”

  “I see,” said Tom, and he did understand. Unless the woman was the lawyer’s mistress, he probably did it to save paying wages.

  “The trouble is, sir, although Barleycorn dresses in new clothes, she hasn’t the way to be a real lady, like Aunt Tilda.”

  “Did you call her by that name?”

  “Only between us, sir,” said Charlie. “I tried to be polite, but Sophie didn’t call her anything, because Barl… they… sent her away to the nuns for her schooling.”

  Tom nodded. He had heard the outcome of that from the adults.

  “How should we address you, sir?”

  “I’d be happy if you called me Uncle Tom.”

  Charlie looked puzzled. “But you’re not a real uncle, like my father’s brother, are you?”

  “Your mother was a cousin to Aunt Jane, so it seems appropriate to me.”

  “Is that what we call Aunt Norbery?”

  Tom wondered how best to explain the family relationships.

  “No,” he said. “Aunt Jane is my wife’s sister. I doubt if you will see much of Mrs Norbery – she is an invalid.”

  Charlie turned to his sister. “Did you hear that, Sophie? Aunt Jane belongs to us.”

  The girl chewed it over and nodded her understanding.

  “I don’t wish to be rude, sir,” Charlie said, “but will there be enough room for us at your home? I mean… my uncle’s house was quite large.”

  “Lor bless me, young sir,” Mary Kilcot interrupted. “Your uncle’s house was nothing compared to Linmore Hall. It’s a real mansion and no mistake, with acres and acres of gardens and parkland.”

  Tom was glad Mary explained. He could not have worded it better.

  Charlie looked on with awe. “Is it really that big, sir? Do you have hundreds of servants as well?”

  “Not hundreds,” Tom said with a smile, “it’s more like a few dozen, counting the ones who work in the gardens and stables.”

  “Don’t forget the farm labourers, sir.” Mary Kilcot added her mite.

  Tom had not accounted for the many folk who owed their living to him. There were probably several hundred around the estate, if he included the servants in the agent’s house as well.

  After that, the children settled down to rest. Charlie asked a question or two along the way, but Tom sensed he was waiting to see the outcome of the story. That was only half the truth about life at Linmore. The rest would have to wait until they arrived.

  Halfway through the third day, when Charlie posed the question again, Tom took his gold timepiece from his pocket, looked out through the window and said, “We should be there within a couple of hours, Charlie. The groom will tell us as soon as we are within sight of Linmore Hill.”

  At his words, Mary Kilcot started to fidget. She craned her neck to peer through the window on one side of the coach. Charlie did the same on the other, while Sophie dozed on, oblivious of her surroundings. Minutes later, the big girl grinned broadly and pointed.

  “There it is, young sir. Linmore is the big hill in the middle distance. Give us half an hour and I reckon we’ll be in the village.”

  Tom smiled at the maid’s confident assertion. Travelling had broadened her horizons. He caught Charlie’s eye and nodded agreement to the boy’s unspoken question.

  The nursemaid was almost right. The terrain became more familiar once they passed over the bridge from the eastern side of the River Linmore, near to Norcott. Half a mile further on, they joined the post road to Westbridge, but they still had six miles to travel before reaching the turn to Middlebrook, and Linmore village was a mile and a half beyond.

  A few minutes later, the driver stopped the coach and the groom appeared to announce the same message.

  “I saw it first,” Mary said, grinning at her brother.

  Tom chuckled at her enthusiasm, and guessed she would be glad to be home. They all would. Then he realised Sophie was watching him. He beckoned, and she unexpectedly slid off the seat to stand at his side.

  “That’s the hill that overlooks Linmore Estate, Sophie,” he said, pointing through the window. “It won’t be long until we’re home.”

  “You needn’t think you can escape me, brat.” A voice rasped through the half-open door of the morning room. “I know you’re there… somewhere.”

  Even before he heard the sound, Joshua recognised the ominous clicking of raised heels on his brother’s Hessian boots, crossing from the marble tiled hallway to oak floorboards in the corridor, which meant he had a few seconds of freedom before his brother found him. Just long enough to hide in the full folds of the curtains lining the bay window.

  Having gone there to avoid confrontation, Joshua froze, not daring to breathe. He closed his eyes; hoping the curtains of the enclosure would shield him from discovery.

  “Mama said you’re to take your daily punishment,” Matthew Norbery’s voice taunted, and then added with malice, “you might as well get it over. Father won’t be back for hours yet.”

  Joshua gritted his teeth, promising himself that one day he’d take revenge on his brother for all the insults he endured. Yet knowing he was too small to make a difference. Somewhere in the background, he heard a door opening, a swish of skirts and a soft tread approaching.

  “Matthew,” Aunt Jane called from the corridor. Her tone was not quite a reproof, more a question. “What are you doing in the morning room? I asked you to tell your mother I am awaiting your father’s return with Cousin Charlotte’s children.”

  Caught out in his mischief, Matthew Norbery had no option but to obey.

  Although he heard, Joshua did not move until the sound of his brother’s clicking footsteps retreated along the corridor towards the main staircase, which led to his mother’s apartments.

  “It’s all right, Joshua,” Aunt Jane said. “You can come out now, he’s gone.”

  He felt a comforting hand on his
shoulder, and blinked back tears of relief. Aunt Jane always seemed to know when he needed her, which showed she cared, as his mother did not. He supposed it was due to the depression she suffered after his birth. It was lucky Aunt Jane was there to look after him. How he wished she really were his mother.

  “Why don’t you come into the drawing room with us, Joshua?” she said. “The view of the front drive is better from there.”

  He should have known she would guess the reason he was standing behind the curtains. Not hiding, that was for babies. He wanted to be first to see his father’s coach returning from Ireland.

  “Let me have a look at you,” she said, smoothing aside the lock of fair hair draped across his brow. “Mm, yes, the bruise has almost gone; a few more days at the most.”

  That was a relief. The skin was still tender, but not as sore as when it was new. Aunt Jane applied salves to the abrasions, caused by the hard stone of his brother’s signet ring, turned inside the hand to inflict the most damage. Then she fixed a pad on the wound, and brushed his hair forward, so it did not show.

  By the time Matthew returned to the drawing room, Joshua was looking through the bay window, in full view of the other occupants of the room. He felt comforted by the quick smile of welcome his twin cousins, Lucy and Julia, gave when he entered the room with Aunt Jane, and safe in the knowledge his brother could not hurt him.

  From his new position, Joshua could see the wide sweep of the drive as it approached the front door. He had not moved since he saw a coach appear around the curve of the birch coppice that screened Linmore Hall from the lower part of the drive and the village. He hugged the news of his father’s imminent return to himself.

  In one way, he was eager to know what the newcomers would be like, yet was half-dreading the moment. Suddenly, his mind filled with doubts, wondering what he would do if the new friend he expected was a bully like his brother? Could life be any worse? He did not think so. He was not bothered about the boy’s sister. She would be like Caroline, and his cousins. Clean and tidy in her dress, and well behaved.

  The sound of coach wheels on gravel broke through his reverie. A fluttering sense of excitement took hold as he heard the front door open, and a gruff voice bid his father welcome, then footsteps on the staircase. Joshua was waiting to move as the drawing room door opened. He hurtled across the room, anxious to be first to speak.

  “Papa,” he burst out, his voice filled with joy. “You’re home.”

  That said everything he felt. He did not care if his brother belittled his actions, because life could be normal for a while.

  Everyone looked up in anticipation as the door opened. Aunt Jane was the next to speak.

  “Welcome home, Tom.” She stepped forward and took her brother-in-law’s hands. “I’m afraid Kate is indisposed.”

  Again, thought Joshua. His mother never made an effort to be polite if she could avoid it. Not that he minded. It kept him out of her way. He thought about it a lot, and felt even more, but long ago learned to say nothing.

  He heard his father talking with Aunt Jane, but he was looking at the people standing behind them. A boy of about his age, with black, tousled hair and crumpled clothes moved forward and extended his hand.

  “Hello,” he said, sounding weary. “You must be Joshua. I’m Charlie Cobarne, and this is my sister, Sophie. We’ve come to live with you at Linmore.”

  Joshua gave thanks for what he saw when he looked at the boy. Then he saw the bedraggled little figure beside him, unlike any girl he had seen before. She looked like a smudgy-eyed black cat with a thumb stuffed in her mouth and was almost asleep. He supposed he should make allowances because she had travelled from Ireland. No doubt, she would look less dishevelled when she had a bath and changed her clothes.

  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.

  CHAPTER 4

  “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.