A Particular Circumstance (3 page)

Matthew was more apologetic. ‘I am conscious that Aunt Lavinia will wonder what has become of me,’ he said. ‘She herself might have been somewhat unnerved by the storm and it would be upsetting for her were I to be unexpectedly late home.’

Jane had no answer to this. After all, how many times had she advised the girls to observe closely how a prospective bridegroom treated his mother? In this case, it was of course his Aunt Lavinia, but still, the sort of loyalty and
consideration
shown to his aunt would definitely be lavished on his bride, she thought.

No, she could not argue against either of their decisions, but instead said gracefully, ‘I do understand. Another time then. Give my kind regards to your aunt, Matthew. You will have much to talk about when you tell her of our dreadful discovery.’

In spite of the warmth of the fire, Kitty shivered as though with a sudden chill and glanced fearfully over her shoulder. ‘I feel as though someone has just stepped over my grave,’ she whispered. ‘Oh, poor thing, dying alone like that and with only the portrait of his dear wife and child to comfort him. And that sweet-looking wife and the dear little baby. What on earth became of them, I wonder?’

‘Who knows?’ Matthew said. ‘Perhaps no one ever will.’

Kitty’s gentle grey eyes were still shining with unshed tears when the two men bowed to the ladies and Matthew kissed Charlotte’s hand.

Robert brought round the horses and they set off, Adam to his lonely house and Matthew to his lovely Aunt Lavinia and supper.

Matthew King always felt a deep sense of peace and security as he rounded the final bend of the road and came at last in sight of home. He’d been out early that morning and must now have been away for twelve hours, so that it was doubly pleasant to see Primrose Cottage again. In spite of his
familiarity
with his surroundings, he often felt as though he’d come across it suddenly and was always struck anew by its beauty and tranquillity. Today was no exception.

It had been known as Primrose Cottage as long as anyone could remember because of the obvious spring beauty of a bank of primroses near the garden gate. There was a gurgling fast-moving stream nearby and Matthew paused for a moment to listen to the water, rushing and chuckling over the smooth pebbles on its bed. After the recent rain, the stream was swollen and everything shone and sparkled. The birds which had been silent during the thunderstorm now hopped about and pulled out worms from ground softened by the downpour. There were a few bright butterflies hovering over the flowers in the garden and his aunt was at the gate,
shading
her eyes with her hand as she waited for him.

He dismounted and handed the reins to Joshua, Aunt Lavinia’s elderly servant, who led the horse to the stables to be fed and watered. Then Matthew and his aunt went into Primrose Cottage arm in arm. Once more, he felt the sense of calm and safety, all the more remarkable after that violent
thunderstorm and the startlingly gruesome revelations at Westbury Hall. The feel of his aunt’s graceful hand on his arm was both comfortable and comforting and did much to drive away the horror of the day’s events. Half an hour later, as they sat together in the comfortable dining-room, he was even more relaxed. As he looked at her calm and tranquil face, Matthew reflected that his beautiful aunt really suited this house.

It was a large cottage, but not big enough to be a
farmhouse
, so it was spacious and cosy, both at the same time. The church clock in the village had already struck six and Matthew waited with ill-concealed impatience as Annie served supper and poured out wine for them. He was in a fever for her to leave the room so that he could speak freely to his aunt of the discovery up at the Hall.

Aunt Lavinia was suitably impatient to hear his tale and flatteringly swift in her dismissal of the maid. Tall and stately, she was young for an aunt, barely five and forty, and although her golden hair had some strands of silver, she still had a handsome bloom.

Matthew, sitting opposite to her, was once more struck by his aunt’s calm beauty. With her clear brow and glossy hair, she looked no more than thirty. For the thousandth time, he wondered why she had never married. He knew she was very comfortably off and, being his godmother, had chosen to devote herself to his own upbringing after his parents had died. But still…. She must have had opportunities to find happiness herself….

As though aware of her nephew’s gaze, Aunt Lavinia raised her eyes to his and said gently, ‘Now tell me
everything
, Matthew. I can see that it is something momentously important.’ Her full lips parted in a smile. ‘Has Adam suddenly sacked you? Has dear Charlotte consented to marry you? Have you become executor to a famous Norwich millionaire? Tell me, I beg you. I am agog with speculation. Annie will not disturb us again until we are ready to move 
into the drawing-room.’

How did she know that he had so much on his mind, he wondered? But then, she had been able to read him since he was a small child. He smiled to himself and needed no second bidding to describe the finding of the skeleton in such vivid detail that his aunt quite forgot to eat and could only exclaim, ‘How dreadful! What a terrible story and fancy that miniature in his signet ring. Poor young man. I hope his wife and child were saved!’

There was a silence and then she said, ‘It seems that Sir Benjamin intends to take up residence again very soon. It is a very splendid house, but what a gloomy place, especially the old part. It must be a nightmare for the servants, so many dark corners and long passages. I wonder Mrs Grayson could stand it for a whole year. Of course, those two lovely girls must bring so much light and laughter to the place, I daresay she does not even notice. By the way, Annie has heard from Mrs Palmer that the purchase of Felbrook Manor is now complete and they will be moving shortly.’

‘Yes, but they will still not be so very far away, no more than a couple of miles, Aunt.’

She looked at him more keenly. ‘And you will still be able to visit just as often, eh, Matthew?’

‘Yes, just as often, Aunt.’

‘And now you have achieved your advancement with Adam – Mr Brown, that is – you will be thinking of wedding bells, perhaps?’

Matthew coloured slightly and said, ‘Aunt Lavinia, you are incorrigible. No wedding bells just yet. I need to make my way in the world first and be able to earn enough to keep a wife in some style and comfort.’

‘Of course,’ said his aunt and continued to smile as they made their way to the drawing-room.

As his Aunt Lavinia rang for tea, Matthew set up the card table. He knew that his aunt would return to the grisly subject of the dead body while the game was in progress and he 
wondered how the Grayson family had taken the appalling discovery at Westbury Hall and what they were doing at that moment.

The Grayson family, in fact, were remarkably cheerful, despite the macabre circumstances of the skeleton. Although the drawing-room at Westbury Hall was rather a dismal
environment
, the red gold of the setting sun, now that the storm clouds had rolled away, cast a more benign light, which even the massive oak doorcases and the heavy old-fashioned curtains hanging in the south bay were unable to dispel. The discovery of the skeleton had at first lowered everyone’s
spirits
, but with her usual positive outlook on life, Jane Grayson had said bracingly, ‘Poor young man, he must have died so lonely and bereft, but still, my dears, he is now hopefully reunited with his loved ones in heaven, as we all hope to be one day.’

Charlotte and Kitty knew that she was not just referring to the unfortunate body in the cupboard, but to the death of their own dear papa, a gentle erudite clergyman, who had died just over a year before and had left a gap in their lives out of all proportion to his unassuming personality and
habitual
goodness.

They sat on chatting in the drawing-room, gradually
relaxing
, at ease with each other and coming to terms with the implications of their terrible discovery until Mrs Palmer entered unannounced and informed them that dinner would be served in twenty minutes.

She obviously expected more reaction from the young ladies and their mama, but Jane Grayson merely said, ‘Thank you, Mrs Palmer. That gives us a little time to tidy up,’ and she calmly folded up her sewing and left the room.

As she did so, there was a commotion outside the front door and when Robert opened it, Jane heard the distinctive huffing and puffing of her brother-in-law, Bertram Grayson, who was petulantly berating his coachman for not handling 
the luggage, letting down the steps and seeing to the horses all at the same time. Uncle Bertram himself merely
concentrated
on easing himself down the steps of the coach and walking up to the front door.

‘Jane! How are you?’ he exclaimed heartily at the sight of his sister-in-law. ‘And what is that wonderful smell? One of Mrs Palmer’s delicious dinners, no doubt. I seem to be just in time, thank goodness. Drat that stupid Robert. Why cannot he send for the stable lad to see to the horses?’

As the smell of Mrs Palmer’s delicious dinner wafted ever closer towards his nostrils, he called impatiently to Robert. ‘Good Lord! Stop dithering like this, you stupid fellow. I tell you, Jane, he deserves to be dismissed for his tardiness.’

Jane Grayson stepped forward and offered her hand to her brother-in-law, saying comfortably, ‘How are you, Bertram? You are indeed in time for one of Mrs Palmer’s delicious dinners and you are most welcome. Leave Robert alone to see to everything. Come in. Come in. How was your journey?’

‘Tolerable, my dear Jane. The journey from Lincoln was tedious in the extreme. So many country carts and loaded hay wains clogging up the road. I am glad to be able to stop for the evening here and not have to put up with bad food and sour wine at some costly inn. I disapprove of extravagance, as you know, and am impatient of any excess.’ He broke off to yell, ‘Get a move on, man! The housekeeper is about to serve my supper.’

Jane smiled at this. Uncle Bertram was on his way to stay with friends in King’s Lynn and had predictably arrived in time to be invited for dinner, which pleased him greatly. He might disapprove of her extravagance, but she knew that he was delighted to be receiving a good meal and refreshment for his horses, at no cost to himself.

As for Jane, she had a soft spot for her late husband’s younger brother, maddening though he was. There was twenty years’ difference in the ages of the two men and while Jane’s husband was alive, Bertram visited rarely, and had 
been something of a Jack-the-lad, frequenting gaming houses and constantly at the races. He had often referred to the Reverend Grayson as a ‘dull stick’, while he himself was a bit of a gay dog, being handsome, reckless and an accomplished flirt. Now that his only brother was dead, Jane knew that Bertram often found himself alone. He had never quite managed to grow up and establish a long-term relationship with any of the young women he had charmed, and they had of course gone on to make worthwhile marriages, leaving him to his fate. He seemed destined to be a lonely bachelor.

She sighed and signalled to Phoebe to take his coat and driving gloves and then she ushered him into the
drawing-room
, where Charlotte and Kitty greeted him politely.

He seemed to have forgotten his earlier bad temper and said jovially, ‘And how are my favourite nieces? Well, I trust? Both of you are in fine bloom, my dears, as is your dear mama, of course.’

Jane was pleased that both girls answered pleasantly and as soon as Phoebe came to say that Mrs Palmer was ready to serve dinner, took his arm and allowed him to lead her into the dining-room.

It was different when they had been young children, she thought, observing the mature good manners of both her daughters. When they were children, Bertram always spoiled them with unsuitable presents, risqué jokes and all manner of dangerous games, some of which involved swinging them round and round until they were in a frenzy of over-
excitement
. After a visit from Uncle Bertram, it took all Jane Grayson’s self-control and patience to calm the girls before bedtime and only his brother Henry’s Christian forbearance prevented a family rift.

Bertram was now tucking in to a plump roasted guinea fowl and glanced across at her to say appreciatively, ‘Very fine, my dear Jane. And how goes the world with you? What news have you, since I saw you last?’

Observing his pleasant expression and obvious enjoyment 
of the meal, Jane returned his smile and offered him more wine sauce. Bertram was no longer the careless rake he had been when the girls were small. Still handsome, he was now inclined to be rather fleshy and as head of the family, a little more serious.

Charlotte and Kitty were eager to tell him about the
thunderstorm
and the collapse of the chimney and all through dinner, he was regaled with descriptions and speculation by all the family.

‘So you see, my dear Bertram, our stay in Sir Benjamin’s house has not been without incident,’ said Jane.

Sitting back in his chair, replete but censorious, Bertram decided to give his sister-in-law the benefit of his considered opinion on the whole situation.

He was now much given to pomposity and as different from Henry Grayson as it was possible to be. He was
relentlessly
critical of every aspect of Jane’s actions and of the upbringing of her children and frequently bemoaned the fact that his brother had been so unwise as to marry a woman as strong as Jane Grayson and had been so unworldly as to take Holy Orders late in life, when he could have been comfortable as a country gentleman.

‘My dear Jane, none of this distressing experience would have happened had you taken notice of my advice and sought out a smaller and more modest residence, more becoming to the widow of a clergyman. I cannot think what possessed you to enter into the leasehold of such an
expensive
, gloomy pile as this. Poor Henry must be turning in his grave at your excesses.’

None of this cut any ice whatsoever with Jane. She had always had money and Henry was not a younger son. He had also been wealthy and the living a good one. He had felt he had a vocation and she had encouraged him to follow his heart’s desire to preach the Gospel and to do good works. She knew that Bertram treated this sort of attitude with the utmost contempt.

‘After all,’ he argued, ‘what had it profited Henry to devote his life to God and die in his early fifties only to leave his widow wasting money in such a profligate way?’

He sipped his red wine appreciatively while continuing to pontificate about the discovery at Westbury Hall and Jane’s folly in renting the property from Sir Benjamin in the first place.

Bertram was listened to politely by Jane, who was
nevertheless
on tenterhooks at the reactions of her daughters,
especially
Charlotte, who did not suffer prosy fools gladly and was never to be trusted to keep a still tongue. She looked covertly at her as Bertram began to drone on about the folly of purchasing Felbrook Manor, which again would be bound to be too big for her, especially after the girls had married and left home.

‘Throwing good money after bad, my dear,’ he boomed.

A mutual antipathy existed between her daughters and their uncle, but in spite of this, Charlotte and Kitty both behaved with complaisance and civility towards him. After all, he was Papa’s brother and now that dear Papa had passed away, Bertram had assumed the role of head of the family and their mama had always stressed the importance of politeness and respect for elders. Jane was pleased and relieved at the maturity of their behaviour and felt that no argument or disagreement could now spoil the evening.