A man raised a hand and Archie saw at once the similarities between Marcus and his brother, even if his girth was wider and his hair was in full retreat. He still cut an imposing figure and approached Archie with hand outstretched—the genial politician who was never off duty.
‘Glad to see you, Felsham,’ he said. ‘It’s been a while.’
‘It has been a very long time since I have seen many of the people I once knew,’ Archie replied, taking Marcus’s hand in a firm grasp and deciding to get past the embarrassing situation of his resurrection by mentioning it himself.
‘Ah, the mischief we get up to as younger men,’ Marcus replied affably, leading the way to a quiet table and motioning to a steward for wine. ‘We had the world at our feet and considered ourselves invincible, but few of us paid such a heavy price for our youthful indiscretions as you.’
Archie lowered himself into a comfortable leather chair, trying not to show how much he appreciated taking the weight off his feet. ‘Ah well, I am at least still alive and making the best of things.’
‘That’s the spirit!’
The steward delivered a decent bottle of claret and Marcus went through the ritual of tasting the wine and approving it. The steward poured for them both and withdrew on silent feet. Archie noticed the famous Scotland Yard detective, Lord Riley Rochester, in deep conversation with a man whom Archie didn’t know. He had crossed paths with Rochester the previous year when he had investigated an especially brutal murder in Archie’s neck of the woods and had been impressed by the man’s dedication and sharp mind. The murderer had been apprehended and hanged, although Archie doubted if that situation would have come about if anyone other than Rochester had pitted his wits against him.
‘Your very good health.’ Marcus raised his glass, then looked momentarily embarrassed. ‘Poor choice of words. Sorry.’
‘Don’t give it another thought. I am more fortunate than most, and slowly improving.’
‘True enough, I suppose, at least insofar as you don’t have to worry about putting food on your table. Even so…’
‘How is the world of politics?’ Archie asked, simply because he needed to gauge the man’s good nature before getting down to the real purpose for his visit.
‘Cutthroat, as ever,’ Marcus replied, ‘but I confess that I thrive in the environment. Occasionally, I even delude myself into believing that I make a small difference.’
‘I am sure you do. That is, after all, the reason why most men go into politics, is it not? They are driven by their consciences to improve the lot of the common man.’
‘Initially, almost certainly, but then one gets caught up in the glory, the in-fighting and what have you, and one’s ideals fly out the window, I’m afraid. Well actually, not mine. I have no desire for promotion. I prefer to remain an influential backbencher. When the house is divided, I find all manner of people courting my vote in return for favours.’ He chuckled. ‘It’s quite flattering really—or it would be if I believed one word in ten.’
‘It sounds to me as though I’m well out of it.’
Marcus leaned back in his chair, twirling the stem of his glass between his fingers. ‘You didn’t come here to discuss my political ambitions, or lack thereof,’ he said with a sapient smile, ‘so I cannot help wondering—’
‘I’m kept fully occupied maintaining the estate, so I am not tempted to dip my toe into politics…’ Archie spread his hands and allowed his words to trail off.
‘I’ll make it easy for you,’ Marcus said, leaning forward and lowering his voice. ‘You have come to ask about my annoying little brother.’
Archie put his glass aside and raised both brows. ‘As a matter of fact, I have, but I wonder how you could possibly have known that.’
Marcus grunted. ‘It wasn’t a difficult conclusion to reach, given that we are barely acquainted. Elroy, however, has made no secret of his dislike of you ever since you were up at Oxford together. He got thrown out of Coutts and is now employed by a very small bank not that far from where you live.’ Intelligent eyes twinkled as they regarded Archie. ‘I rest my case.’
‘I had the dubious pleasure of receiving a visit from your brother the other day. He came, I think, to gloat over my incapacity.’
The humour left Marcus’s expression. ‘That I can easily believe. I apologise for his behaviour, Felsham.’
Archie inclined his head. ‘You are not his keeper, much as a bible basher of my acquaintance I’m sure would have you believe, and I hold you in no way accountable for his actions. However, he led me to believe that he is still employed at Coutts. I myself already knew that to be untrue, even before I entertained one of their directors the other day. He told me that they dismissed your brother, and why, but they also said that they did so with your prior knowledge and approval.’
‘They did. Elroy is a fool and has only himself to blame for his reduced circumstances.’ There wasn’t an iota of sympathy in Marcus’s tone, and Archie realised that his political opponents would have a hard time hoodwinking him. ‘He was given every opportunity by our father…too many opportunities, in fact. He was Father’s favourite and exploited that situation quite shamelessly. In the end, Father grew tired of dragging him out of scrapes. He wangled him a position at Coutts, but he wasn’t sufficiently dedicated or intelligent to use it to his advantage, despite the fact that our father had told him it was his last opportunity to make something of himself.’ Marcus paused to take a sip of his wine. ‘I wasn’t surprised when he resorted to stealing in order to support his overstretched lifestyle.’
‘I’m sorry to have raised such an unpalatable subject, and I am grateful to you for speaking of it with such candour. Most families prefer not to show their vulnerable underbelly in public, but you are assured of my discretion.’
‘I wouldn’t have been so forthcoming if I thought otherwise. Elroy still bears the family name and I will not have anyone, especially gentlemen in your elevated position, thinking that all Conrads are as disreputable as he is.’
‘I would never think that of you.’ Archie raised his glass in salute. ‘I keep up with politics in my own way, and often see your name attached to reasoned argument—if there is such a thing in that bear pit.’
Marcus chuckled. ‘If there was a compliment buried amongst all those caveats then I thank you for it.’
Archie flashed a smile of his own. ‘There was, and you are entirely welcome.’
Archie respected the man, who was clearly both intelligent and passionate in the protection of the rights of the workers in his native Yorkshire. The fact that he had been accepted as a member of this exclusive gentlemen’s club showed that times were changing. The establishment recognised his dedication in making the voice of the growing trade union movement heard in a balanced and erudite manner that forced even those on the right wing of government to sit up and take notice.
‘Elroy is better off where he is now,’ Marcus said. ‘He is a big fish in a small pond, and he is not expected to overachieve. I live in hope that he will settle down to a life of respectability—although that is more of a wish than an expectation. I know my brother’s character too well ever to doubt that he will eventually self-destruct.’
‘I’m sorry for your sake. He and I never saw eye to eye, but you don’t deserve to be stuck with the consequences of his lazy and resentful character.’
‘Ah well, we can choose our friends but not our family.’
Marcus put his empty glass aside. The bottle was empty too. It was Archie who signalled for another. They waited for it to be delivered, tasted and poured before Marcus spoke again.
‘You want to know what the final straw was, I suppose. What caused our family to close ranks and distance ourselves from Elroy. As I say, Elroy was Father’s favourite but he pushed him too far. They argued violently, and two days later Father was dead from a heart attack. No one will ever convince me that the life of one of the finest men ever to draw breath was not cut short by the shame visited upon him by h
is youngest son’s unconscionable behaviour.’ Marcus’s expression turned frosty. ‘I might be willing to reveal more particulars but I should like to know why you are asking first.’
‘Your brother is making unwanted advances towards a young lady who lives in Lyneham.’
‘A relative of yours?’
Archie waved one hand from side to side. ‘Not precisely.’
‘Ah.’ Marcus’s expression turned disapproving.
‘Not what you are thinking,’ Archie assured him. ‘Those days are behind me. Let’s just say that the lady does no end of good in the district but chooses to live alone, even though she is unmarried.’ Marcus raised one brow but knew when to remain silent. ‘She is reasonably comfortably situated, so naturally her wealth makes her a target for the unscrupulously inclined. We are friends, and I want her to be able to live in the unconventional manner she has chosen without having to fight off unwanted attentions. Attentions that I cannot help feeling partially responsible for, since your brother bears me a grudge and is aware of my friendship with the lady in question.’
‘Presumably she has told my brother that his feelings for her are not reciprocated.’
The suggestion of a smile played about Archie’s lips. ‘Most directly. You may depend upon it.’
‘Then why does he persist?’ Marcus frowned. ‘My brother enjoys more than his share of luck with the fairer sex. There is something about him that they find appealing. Damned if I can see what it is, but there you have it. Anyway, I can level many accusations at Elroy’s door, most unpalatable accusations based upon his past conduct, but pushing his attentions where they are unwelcome is not one of them.’
Archie cleared his throat. ‘I believe the lady’s father has encouraged him.’
‘Her father?’ He frowned. ‘I say, what a cad! Why would he do such a thing?’
‘There you have hit upon the heart of my problem.’
‘Do I know this sorry excuse for a father?’
‘He is the Dean of Salisbury Cathedral.’
Marcus sucked in a sharp breath. ‘Latimer!’
‘Precisely so. Your scowl leads me to suppose that you are acquainted with the man.’
‘Not personally, thank God.’ Marcus smiled without humour at the unintended pun, topped off their glasses and downed half the contents of his in one long swallow, clearly very distressed. ‘I had best explain the precise nature of my brother’s last argument with my father, given the circumstances.’
Flora’s determination to entertain Melanie, to distract her as she recovered from the ordeal that she had suffered at their father’s hands, helped keep her mind off her recent exchange with Archie. She had more important priorities, but even so, she couldn’t ignore the fact that something fundamental had changed during the course of Archie’s visit. They had both let their guard down to a degree, but the situation had left Flora frustrated and confused.
Now that she had let the scandalous possibility of agreeing to become his mistress into her head, she had trouble thinking about anything else, and was grateful to have Melanie to keep her from dwelling upon it. Her sister’s injuries were slowly healing and she was proving an attentive student. She absorbed everything that Flora taught her about her herbal cures and asked clever questions about their uses.
‘This hemlock mixture sounds very Shakespearian,’ Melanie said, giggling. ‘Are we two of the three witches chanting around our cauldron, plotting the rise and fall of kings?’
Flora laughed. ‘You have a vivid imagination.’
‘I have grown up depending upon my imagination. Escaping into it made my life more interesting than it actually was, and a good deal more bearable,’ she replied in a matter of fact voice. ‘Do you use this to help Lord Felsham with his sore muscles?’
‘How do you know that his muscles are sore?’
‘When I was in the kitchen Mr Pawson said that you’d made a world of difference to his mobility. Polly agreed with everything he said, even though I can’t be sure how she could possibly know. But then she is besotted with Mr Pawson. I think she’s in love with him.’
‘I am sure she is, but that is her business. And yes, in answer to your question, it is something I have recommended for Lord Felsham. But remember that hemlock is dangerous, otherwise it wouldn’t have attracted the attention of Shakespeare’s unscrupulous witches. Its root, when roasted and applied to the hands of a person suffering from gout, has proven beneficial.’
‘Gosh, you are clever.’ Melanie looked up at Flora with admiration in her eyes. ‘How do you know all these things? I like to educate myself through reading but your abundance of knowledge makes me feel quite dense by comparison.’
Flora smiled. ‘Our grandmother gave me a lot of instruction. She was much better with herbs than I will ever be. I have a feeling that you will take after her. You seem to have a natural affinity.’
‘I do hope so.’
‘We will go into the village tomorrow morning and purchase something for you to wear at Beranger Court.’
‘I don’t need anything. I have the lovely skirts you already bought me.’
‘Yes you do.’ Flora pinched her sister’s cheek. ‘But you will be the guest of an earl. Certain standards are expected.’
‘You’re just saying that because you want to spoil me.’ Melanie grinned. ‘And I fully intend to let you.’
Flora laughed. ‘That’s settled then.’
‘I am excited to be going to Beranger Court. I used to spend hours after you left wondering what it must be like to live amongst such exalted company. Now I shall find out for myself.’ She swirled in a circle, full of youthful excitement. ‘It hardly seems credible. I thought you would send me away because you couldn’t be bothered with me.’
‘Now you are making me feel guilty for neglecting you in the first place.’
‘Nonsense. We have already decided that neither of us would be free from Papa’s machinations if you hadn’t found the courage to leave first, so we shall not speak of it again.’
‘No,’ Flora agreed, kissing the top of her sister’s head. ‘We shall not.’
The promised expedition left Melanie the ecstatic owner of a fetching green striped outfit, set off by a velvet cloche hat, soft leather gloves and new half boots.
Melanie had quickly grown accustomed to sleeping in her own room but declared as she retired the night before her visit to Swindon that she wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink because she was too excited.
Flora remained beside the fire, her grandmother’s latest diary open on her lap. She had read the same entry three times without absorbing the words, still preoccupied with thoughts of Archie. He had accused her of flirting with him, and she was now worried that she might have frightened him off. She had come to depend upon his friendship more than was wise and would be hard pressed now to manage without it. Even so, his behaviour confused her. One moment she thought he wanted more than friendship, the next she was worried about losing his respect.
‘Oh, this is useless!’
Flora locked the diary away in her escritoire and retired for the night. As she attempted to sleep, something nagged at the back of her mind. She had read a significant passage in her grandmother’s neat hand but had failed to make the connection. She woke abruptly from a light doze in the middle of the night, with a pounding headache and a clear recollection of what she had missed.
But she had to be sure.
She scampered through the quiet house, avoiding the floorboards that squeaked, and lit the lamp above the escritoire with a taper from the dying fire. She unlocked the diary and reread the passage that had been plaguing her subconscious mind. She let out a little sob when there could be no further doubt that she had previously interpreted it entirely incorrectly, deceived by misconceptions.
‘This is terrible,’ she muttered. ‘It cannot possibly be.’
With a shaking hand, she locked the book back up and returned to her bed, her head spinning as she tried to deny the unpalatable trut
h.
It had been there all the time, and she had been too blind to see it.
But then again, perhaps she hadn’t wanted to.
Archie left White’s a deeply concerned man, with no clear proof that what he’d been told about Flora’s father and Conrad was accurate, even though he believed in his heart that it very likely was. Be that as it may, belief and proof were two entirely different things. It would be one hell of an accusation to throw at anyone without the evidence to back it up, and as good a way as any to get oneself sued for slander.
He was so deep in thought as he headed for the stairs that he didn’t hear his name being called at first. He turned and acknowledged Riley Rochester, who was also taking his leave, and who civilly slowed his pace to accommodate Archie’s more awkward gait.
‘Don’t often see you in town,’ Rochester said after Archie had enquired after the health of Rochester’s young family.
‘I prefer to remain in the country, given…’ He glanced down at his stick as it tapped on the marble stairs and allowed his words to trail off.
‘Quite. We have moved out of town too. Much nicer for children to have country air.’
‘Absolutely.’ Archie decided to seize the moment. ‘Can I ask you a hypothetical question in your professional capacity?’
‘Of course.’
Archie took a moment to choose his words with care. ‘If you were aware that someone closely connected to a person who meant a great deal to you was doing something illegal, how would you proceed?’
They had reached the lobby and stood to one side, away from gentlemen arriving and leaving and asking the harried porter to hail cabs, as Rochester considered his answer. ‘That would rather depend on the nature of what they were doing. Nothing to do with Marcus Conrad, I hope. I saw you upstairs in conversation with him.’
‘No, not at all. His reputation I believe is unimpeachable, and I hear he is making genuine efforts in the House to improve the lot of the working man. I know nothing to his detriment—other than the fact that he is a politician, of course.’
A Sense of Fate (Perceptions Book 7) Page 19