“Hello…Josh.” The speech was slurred. “They tell me… that you’re over at the… Home Farm.”
“Yes,” he said, “showing how little I know about farming.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll soon learn… Squire Norbery’ll be proud of you…”
There was a silence and Joshua realised the effort of speaking had exhausted the man. He looked at Aunt Jane for guidance, and she nodded towards the door.
“I’ll come to see you again,” he said, looking back from the open door with tears in his eyes. In that moment, Joshua decided that when Ed Salter recovered his health, he would be his personal groom. He owed him nothing less.
“Will he recover…?” he asked.
“It will take a long time,” said Aunt Jane, “and he won’t be quite the man he was, but Dr Althorpe is hopeful… as long as there is no more infection.”
When Joshua rode slowly back to the Home Farm, he realised that he had not asked Aunt Jane about either Charlie or Sophie Cobarne. When he thought about it, their absence ceased to be of significance compared to Ed Salter, but he wished they could see as he could, the damage that their actions had caused.
The sight of the injured man had a profound effect, making Joshua determined in the days that followed to fulfil the words that Salter had spoken in Aunt Jane’s bedroom. “You’ll learn…”
He vowed to do his utmost. After all, there was nothing else for him to do, or more important than to regain his father’s good opinion.
After the second week, he heard a whisper, which increased to a shout in his mind. Squire Norbery will be home tomorrow.
He waited and waited for the summons to go home, but it did not come. Several days passed while Mr Weyborne attended to other matters, so Joshua rode around the estate with Francis. During these hours, they cemented a working bond of friendship.
When the summons finally came for Joshua to see his father, he had to wait outside the Linmore estate office while the agent conducted his meeting with Squire Norbery.
In his father’s absence, the agent held weekly meetings at the Home Farm, and many times Joshua was encouraged to express an opinion. Today, he was on the outside, awaiting his father’s pleasure.
It was strange to think he had not been inside his home for more than three weeks. He walked in from the stable yard, and everything on the lower ground floor seemed the same. It was quiet, and yet, in the background he could hear the murmur of servants’ voices. There was always someone bustling about. Kitchen staff sent on errands to collect stores or laundry women chattering on their way outside to hang out the linen. Familiar sounds, and yet, he sensed it would never be normal again. His belly rumbled, but he had felt too anxious to eat a proper breakfast.
The office door opened and the agent and bailiff emerged. Francis gave a wink of encouragement as he walked past, and his father said, “Squire Norbery will see you now, Master Joshua.”
He nodded and walked through the open door and saw his father reading a bundle of papers on the desk. Squire Norbery did not lift his head, but with a sweep of a hand, pointed towards a chair opposite to where he sat.
Instead, Joshua remained standing, feeling as he did when the tutor passed judgement on his behaviour when he was a lad.
“Sit down, boy,” his father growled, and continued reading.
The tone did not invite argument. As he obeyed, Joshua looked at his boots and wished he had given the leather an extra layer of dubbing. He was not too adept at achieving a shine. It was something he would have to practise.
Through his reverie, he heard his father’s voice: “You will go to Norfolk…”
What…when…how? The words ran through his mind. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. Then he saw a look of exasperation on his father’s face.
“Did you hear what I said, Joshua?”
He heard part of it, but why Norfolk?
“What is the matter with you?” The edge to his father’s voice finally penetrated his consciousness. “Does my plan not meet with your approval?”
“I’m sorry, sir,” he said. “I don’t understand what you mean.” He wished he had been listening.
“I was hoping for a better response than this.” His father sounded annoyed. “It is not every young man who has the chance to spend a year on Thomas Coke’s estate at Holkham.”
Joshua gasped as the significance sank in. “Do you mean Mr Coke of Norfolk, the agriculturalist?”
It was the name Francis Weyborne had mentioned reverently in passing.
“Yes, he is my political colleague. We met whilst I was in London. He told me about a project he has started to teach the young landowners of the future about the changes in agriculture. He already has two students this year, and didn’t plan for any more. I hope you realise he only agreed to take you as a favour to me, and it is on condition you do not waste time. You are there to work, Joshua, so please don’t let me down, ever again.”
Flooded with relief, he said, “Thank you, sir, I won’t let you down.” He added as an afterthought, “Of course, I will miss everyone.”
“You won’t have time to miss anyone, not even Millie,” his father said. “You leave in three days; everything is arranged.”
PART 2
ORDER AND METHOD
(1801 -1802)
CHAPTER 26
Early May 1801
“I’m so glad that you are here with me,” Joshua said as he climbed into the coach. “You must be tired of travelling after your recent visit to London.”
“Not really,” Aunt Jane said with a smile, as she settled herself on the opposite seat. “You forget that it is rare for me to leave Linmore. It gave me the chance to see Aunt Winifred, albeit for a short time.”
Joshua was at a loss to know what made her suddenly decide to visit her sister, Lady Cardington, when she usually described Rushmore Hall as the most boring place in the world. Whatever the reason, acting as her escort made his journey to Norfolk seem less like banishment. That is what it was, no matter what they called it. Irrespective of the challenge ahead, he was determined to see it through. He had to, for he was the heir to Linmore.
“How far is it?” he said, unable to recall the last time he had visited his relatives.
“About twenty miles,” she said, stifling a yawn. “With luck, we should be there by three o’clock.”
Joshua supposed that it took four hours because of the winding country roads, and the need to stop several times to water the horses. Thank goodness they were travelling in the well-padded comfort of the Linmore coach.
“Will you stay long?”
“Two weeks at the most,” Aunt Jane said, closing her eyes preparatory to sleep. “I rely on Jessie to send an urgent message for me to return to Linmore.”
Saying farewell to his father was hard, which was why he welcomed Aunt Jane’s presence. She had always been there for him, right from the beginning. His journey to Norfolk was about two hundred miles, but he had never before travelled alone. Other times, people were with him to deal with arrangements.
The plan, when Joshua left Linmore, was for Jack Kilcot, his father’s coachman, to drive Aunt Jane to Rushmore, and the following day, take him to Lichfield, where he would stay overnight in readiness to board the stagecoach that would take him to Norfolk. Mr Penn, his father’s secretary, had organised everything in advance. He gave Joshua sufficient money to defer expenses, and a list of hostelries with guaranteed accommodation en route, which was so easy to follow, a child could use it.
Joshua said as much to Aunt Jane when he showed her the letter in the coach, and then briefly closed his eyes, feeling a gnawing sadness in his gut as he thought of the acrimonious parting with Charlie. One minute they were brothers-at-arms, and in the blink of an eyelid, deadly enemies. It should never have happened. He took a breath, deliberately turning his mind to the purpose of his journey. Whatever else the year at Holkham involved; he hoped there would be no women to cause trouble.
His th
oughts ran together and he dozed; lulled by the drumming of coach-wheels on the roads that became progressively smoother the further they travelled. Reaching the halfway point, they stepped down from the coach to take a drink, before resuming the journey to their destination.
Rushmore Hall was a sprawling edifice, built in the Jacobean era, situated about five miles beyond the cast iron bridge constructed over the Severn Gorge.
Approached through an arched gateway, the front drive passed through two miles of parkland studded with oak and beech trees, before the house came into view, and another half mile to the entrance.
Although suitably impressed, Joshua secretly thought the building oozed the same pomposity as his uncle, Lord Cardington. He much preferred the friendly informality of the Linmore estate, a mere ten thousand acres, as opposed to Rushmore, which was half as big again, and twice as self-important.
Royston, the stately butler, met them at the door. He was flanked by two footmen and a similar number of uniformed maids, to be worthy of their consequence as family connections of Lady Cardington. Had it been the master who arrived, the entire staff would have been in evidence.
Aunt Jane went away to talk with her sister. To Joshua’s surprise and delight, his older cousin, Fred, Lord Cardington’s second son, was on furlough from the army. The last time they met was on a visit to London, three years before, when he took Joshua and Charlie Cobarne to Horse Guards’ Parade, and the horse sales at Tattersalls. Sophie had inveigled her way into the visit, more was the pity. She encroached on so many things.
When they finally escaped from the welcoming party, Fred took Joshua to visit the stables, to see the thoroughbred horses for which Rushmore was renowned, and to choose a horse for his use. Dinner that evening was a long-winded affair, with Lord Cardington dominating the conversation, probing the reasons for Joshua’s visit to Norfolk, for which Aunt Jane supplied answers that bore no resemblance to the reality.
Having a congenial relationship with his father, Joshua imagined everyone else did the same, but after the ladies withdrew from the dining room, he sensed a strange acrimony between Lord Cardington and Fred, which ensured the drinking of port was not prolonged. It was a relief to escape to his cousin’s apartment, a substantial set of rooms in the west wing of the house.
Used to army life, Fred’s notion of a quiet evening was to play cards and imbibe several bottles of burgundy. Joshua joined him in this, but tired from travelling, and unused to the quantity of alcohol, or quality of Lord Cardington’s excellent wine cellar, he lapsed into a stupor and spent the first part of the night on a sofa.
Sometime in the early hours, he blundered back to his bedchamber and fell into bed, not knowing how he found his way. Hearing birdsong, he cautiously opened one eye, felt the room spin round, and closed it. He tried again, and it stopped spinning. The next time, he smelled the aroma of coffee and found a valet looking incuriously down at him.
“Would you care to take your bath now, sir? Captain Frederick asked if you would join him in the breakfast room when you are ready.”
“What time is it?” he mumbled, blinking.
“Half past ten, sir, and everything is ready.”
Joshua sat up very carefully, feeling a runaway horse had trampled him. He touched his head to see if it still sat atop his body, and risked a nod of agreement. When nothing fell on the floor, he took a deep breath, slipped his feet out of bed and stood up.
A welcome cup of coffee removed the sawdust from his mouth, while the bath helped ease his discomfort and revive his flagging spirits. Half an hour later, he entered the breakfast room, and found Fred looking disgustingly fit, devouring several slices of red sirloin. He shuddered at the thought of food, but nodded when Fred insisted, “Eat some of this, Josh; it will do you good.”
Surprisingly, it did.
“It was probably the brandy you drank,” Fred said with a laugh. “I daresay that you’re not used to it. Better stay with the burgundy tonight.”
Joshua could not remember drinking brandy, but he bowed to Fred’s superior knowledge of his inebriated state.
His aching head cleared during a day spent riding a magnificent bay gelding around the estate, while Fred chose a chestnut. One could not fail to appreciate the bloodlines, and whatever else one might think of Lord Cardington, his stables were infinitely superior to any Joshua had seen before.
When they returned, he bathed again and donned formal dress, in readiness to endure another evening in Lord Cardington’s company. Fortunately, it was not of long duration, for Fred’s acerbic humour ensured that his lordship retired early to his library and remained there. After that, they escaped.
Although by nature Joshua was dutifully respectful to his elders, he admitted, by the time Fred opened a second bottle of burgundy, that it was a relief to be free of the sound of Lord Cardington’s booming voice. At five years his senior, Fred became equally more loquacious as the wine loosened his tongue.
“Have you heard about Atcherly being caught in the parson’s mousetrap, Josh? The sooner he produces a couple of sons, the better I will like it.”
What he meant was that Joshua’s cousin, Viscount Atcherly, had finally married. Fred made flippant comments about a suitable bride, with a substantial dowry and lands that marched alongside those of Rushmore.
A cynical viewpoint indeed, but he learned it was no more than the truth.
“That should let me off the hook, unless he produces a clutch of daughters, for I’m next in line for the illustrious honour. Who wants a damn title and a fifteen-thousand-acre millstone around their neck? Marriage is not for a military man like me. I like women well enough, but prefer the decorative kind. Why take a wife when I have a little ladybird in keeping, who knows exactly how to keep me happy, and one can always avoid bastards.
“In due course,” he rambled on, “the parents will expect me to do my duty. That was why his lordship remarried, to have another son, when Atcherly’s mother died in childbirth. Of course, I don’t compare to the first-born, for I’m only the spare – his lordship’s guarantee for the future, to prevent the name dying out. I daresay you might have felt something like it when Matthew was alive.”
“No,” said Joshua, perfectly honest. “He said I was the family bastard.”
“The devil he did. It was just like him to say that, when everyone else knew that he was the cuckoo in the nest.”
Joshua looked at him hard. “What do you mean?”
“Part of the family secrets, I suppose,” said Fred, with a rueful grin. “It was something Atcherly told me when we visited Linmore, just after Uncle Tom brought those scrubby brats from Ireland. I think they were in some way related to my mother and Aunt Jane. The lad was polite enough, but his obnoxious sister quite upset his lordship, by not showing the proper respect for her betters. How we laughed…”
An apt description if ever Joshua heard one. The momentary recollection of the life-changing event that occurred when he was ten years old distracted his thoughts. When Joshua asked more of what Atcherly had said, Fred abruptly changed the subject, and he was no wiser.
“Keep out of my parents’ way as long as you can, Josh. They will be seeking a bride for you, before you are much older. It stands to reason, with Matthew gone. Have to say that I think you will make a better job of running Linmore when the time comes. Not that one would wish it to be soon, for Uncle Tom’s a splendid fellow. I always envied you your father. He is gentle in the real sense, whereas his lordship always took his parental duties far too seriously – particularly the floggings. Devilishly savage, when I was younger.”
Fred was well into his stride now, and Joshua let him ramble. He was learning more about the family than he knew before, and it helped to keep his mind off what would happen when he left Rushmore.
“Gilbert, his brother, was of the same harsh disposition,” Fred said, looking around for another bottle to broach. “Poor Jane…” he mused. “Did you know that is how my mother speaks of her sister, because s
he did not wish to forge close links with the Cardington family? My father intended her to marry his brother, but she laughed in his face. They consider her a sad case, but for my part I think it showed amazingly good sense.”
Joshua shook his head, wondering what else he would hear.
“A fine life she would have had if married to Gilbert,” Fred said, meaning exactly the opposite. “I like her best of all the family.”
“So do I,” said Joshua. He had not realised that Aunt Jane’s sister, Clarissa, was Lord Cardington’s second wife. It explained so many things.
He stayed three nights at Rushmore, during which time Lord Cardington decided to change Tom Norbery’s plans, and, without telling anyone, sent Kilcot home with the Linmore coach. Joshua only learned of this on the final night, when he sat down to dinner with the family.
Hearing the pronouncement, Joshua looked questioningly at Aunt Jane, but she simply raised her eyebrows. He guessed it was news to her, and wondered if her annoyance stemmed from a dislike of causing a dispute in front of the servants, or reluctance to be beholden to Lord Cardington for her transport home.
On that occasion, he met his cousin, Atcherly, with his wife, who dined with the family. Suitably meek, he thought, and someone who would not argue.
As usual, it was an over-long, formal affair of pomposity, in which Lord Cardington’s opinion took precedence over everyone else, and he depressed the pretensions of anyone with the temerity not to agree. Lady Cardington nodded approval to every word he uttered.
When the ladies retired from the dining room, the butler brought in the decanter of port, and the talk became more general. Fred called across the table to Joshua, an action that elicited a frown of disapproval from Lord Cardington. His cousin’s mocking grin warned Joshua not to take his words literally.
“I’ll be returning to London tomorrow, Josh. Had I known of your visit in advance, I could have driven you to Lichfield, but it appears that his lordship has planned a delightful surprise for you. Wigmore, his head groom, will take you in the chaise, instead. You must be sure to express your dutiful thanks to him.”
Brothers at Arms Page 30