The Dead Songbird (The Northminster Mysteries) (27 page)

There was a generous fire burning and a couple of powerful Argand lamps blazing away. Felix found himself blinking at the light. It made the white linen cloth shine, and the silver gilt cutlery and glasses flashed their worth at him. It was also too hot, and he wanted to throw off his coat and sit in his shirt sleeves. But even when he was being obscure, Lord Rothborough would have taken great offence at that. This dinner was going to be an uncomfortable sweat of an affair.

“Sit you down, sir,” said Lord Rothborough, indicating his place. It was a round table, with no head, but such was Lord Rothborough’s inherent consequence that when he sat down it was at the head of the table, as if this were a great long table at a banquet. Behind him the voluptuous nymphs, dawdling by their pool, gazed enticingly out at Felix. One of them looked alarmingly like Mrs Morgan, or rather how Mrs Morgan might have looked with her hair down and her shift fallen to her waist.

Felix ran a finger down his collar and downed in one gulp of the glass of sherry that Bodley had just poured for him. Lord Rothborough frowned.

When Bodley had gone Lord Rothborough said, “I should really send you to the servant’s hall to drink small beer, but then you will never learn.”

Felix picked up his soup spoon without replying. It was a fine, full flavoured clear soup – it seemed the French chef from Holbroke came even to this obscure little house along with Bodley.

They drank the soup and then Rothborough put down his spoon.

“Commendable restraint,” he remarked.

“I am rather hungry,” said Felix.

“A man cannot be civilised until he has dined,” said Rothborough. “We will eat and then will get to our business. In the mean time, we should be thankful for the blessing of a well-kept table. There are plenty in this city tonight who will not be so fortunate.” Felix stared at him. “You look surprised. Do you think I am without compassion, Felix? Or perhaps you think I have no conscience.”

“No, sir, of course not. I know well enough how good you are to your people. My father often says that as a landlord he does not know any like you.”

Rothborough inclined his head a little.

“One does what one can. It is the obligation of wealth to take responsibility for those less fortunate. In this place, for example, there is much that could be done here to improve the lot of the ordinary man and woman. All those poor souls working in the manufactories, for example – they are not well served by their employers, and although I do not at all like the principle of the government interfering in a man’s business, I can see no other way, in the present conditions. Factory legislation is a pressing need. Small steps have been to be taken already, but it is not, I feel, enough. Progress must be balanced with the needs of civilisation, yes?”

“Yes, always,” said Felix, finding this speech went strangely with the removal of the soup plates and the arrival of a quennelle of pike. Pike that, he supposed, had been pulled from the great fish-ponds at Holbroke, which were strictly reserved for the use of the family, and fiercely guarded from poachers. Anyone rash enough to poach at Holbroke found himself bound for Van Dieman’s Land.

Felix took a forkful of fish. It had been whipped up into an ethereally light paste and set on little rounds of toasted bread. He let it dissolve in his mouth, enjoying it far more than he felt he should. Lord Rothborough was playing an artful game – as he always did – but Felix could not yet discern what it was. If he had seen the Dean and Miss Pritchard then there was no end to the calumnies that would be heaped on his him. In the normal course of things Lord Rothborough would be preparing to excoriate him for his conduct. Yet he had deferred his anger. It felt ominous.

Perhaps Mrs Morgan was at the root of it, he thought, catching sight of the half-naked nymph who so resembled her. Perhaps, as his mysterious visitor had said, Mrs Morgan had so taken possession of him that he was distracted from his usual hobby-horses. For which Felix would ordinarily have been grateful, but instead recalled that terrible story she had told him.

“Oh, I forgot mention it when you came in, my Lord,” said Bodley, bringing in the joint, “Juno has gone into pup. Three of them so far, all little beauties.”

Watching the servant move across the room, Felix wondered whether Bodley had served Lord Rothborough back then. Was he the one who had pulled the pistol from his master’s mouth and saved his life? Could Bodley be persuaded to tell him the full story?

“Excellent news,” said Lord Rothborough. “Mr Carswell will carve, Bodley.” Bodley put the joint down in front of Felix. “I thought I might give one of them to young Master Harry Morgan,” Rothborough went on. “That boy needs a dog. Perhaps you might like one too, Felix? Major Vernon is right to keep that beautiful hound of his – a gentleman needs a good dog. By the way, you don’t know if he has plans to breed from her?”

“No,” Felix said.

“If he does, you must tell me. The girls have been demanding a greyhound ever since they have met Prince Albert’s charming Eos – but I think, with the greatest respect to his Highness, that the points of Major Vernon’s bitch are better. Now carve me a slice of that, will you, my boy? The end piece will suit me perfectly. Indeed I much prefer it, and I remember that you don’t care for it.”

It annoyed Felix that Lord Rothborough should remember this detail about him. If it had been his mother, he would have felt some pleasure in it, although she would have scolded him for having a preference, and told him, even now, as a grown man, that he ought to eat what was put in front of him and not question it.

He carved the slice as he was bid and Bodley conveyed the plate to Lord Rothborough with his usual stateliness. Rothborough dismissed him after he had offered the vegetables and Felix, with a full plate in front of him, wondered how the conversation would now proceed.

“Do you think Mrs Morgan will allow her son to accept a puppy?” he said as mildly as he could.

“I cannot imagine why not. Children ought to grow up with animals – it’s good for them. Harry is a trifle timid. A dog will do him good. You would be a poorer soul had your father not had that raggedy white mutt of his! He is with us still, I trust – what was his name, now?”

“Keeper. No, he died last winter.”

“I had no idea,” said Lord Rothborough, with sudden gravity. “I am sorry to hear that. Your father must have been greatly grieved. I must write to him. I wish I had known earlier.” Then after a moment, during which he took a reflective sip of wine, he said, “I shall definitely give the boy one of the pups. It is what he needs.” He looked across at Felix and smiled. “He is a charming little fellow. Very much like his mama, which is just as well given all I have heard of his father.” Lord Rothborough went on: “It is odd how children much resemble one parent or another and never seem to be mixtures. I find it fascinating. There is nothing of your mother in you, thank God, Felix. You have all our family’s qualities, and our weaknesses. But your sisters – three of them are their mother’s daughters, but Charlotte, well – she and you are very alike.” He took another sip of his wine. “I know it offends you for me to speak like this, but –”

“I would not worry about offending me,” Felix said. “But Lady Charlotte, on the other hand –”

He did not like to be reminded of Lord Rothborough’s daughters, and he was sure they did not like to be reminded of him. Yet at the same time, he had often felt a fierce longing to know them.

“If you could meet them, I am sure you would love them,” Lord Rothborough said. “That would be my greatest pleasure – to see my children together.”

Felix looked across at Lord Rothborough, unsettled that he should have guessed at his private inclination.

“That is a fancy that not even you, with all your powers, can accomplish,” he said.

“Regrettably,” said Rothborough with a great sigh. “I am thinking of having a painting done – a group portrait of you all, before any of you are married, while you are all young and at the height of your beauty. I have even discussed it with Axelmann; he thinks it possible to combine two separate sittings.”

“Axelmann?”

“He’s a clever young German. You would be interested to meet him, I’m sure. I would like to get him to Holbroke, this summer at any rate. That is one of his,” he added, indicating the nymphs above him. “He is painting the Queen and Prince Albert – a wedding portrait. I think he will be one of the great masters of the century. I shall get him to do the girls in a group, for the London drawing room, and then you will sit for him, for a cabinet portrait. We will have a copy done to send to your parents, of course,” he added.

“You’ve obviously given this some thought.”

“Yes, I have.”

“Then perhaps you should get Mrs Morgan to sit for him,” Felix said, unable to restrain himself. “For another private portrait.”

“He would certainly do her justice, but I sense you are not making a serious suggestion, Felix.”

“No, I am not!” said Felix laying down his knife and fork.

“I thought we would save business until after dinner. Come, now eat your beef – you are far too thin for my comfort these days. A physician must be strong and you are always in the way of danger working here – you must be fortified.”

“I am never ill, you know that,” said Felix.

“There comes a point when our constitutions fail us all,” said Rothborough. “At your age I believed I was indestructible – and I would like to spare you the misery that I endured when I realised I was not.”

“Do you mean –” Felix said, searching for the best way to begin on the subject. “Was this after you had been in Paris?”

“Yes,” said Rothborough.

“What form did this illness take?”

“I was half-paralysed with exhaustion and racked with pains that no-one could explain. I could not bear light, nor noise for at least two months. It was wretched – to be shut up in my room with no power to make myself any better – and being bled by all the quacks my dear mother could summon to the house. I was like a pin-cushion after all those leeches.”

“It sounds like a form of melancholia,” Felix said. “Feelings can work powerful effects upon the body’s systems.”

He was aware of Lord Rothborough’s eyes upon him. There was a long moment of silence and then Lord Rothborough said, “That is true – and that is why I am anxious that you are sensible in this regard. I know the dangers, more than most.”

“I think you can trust me to avoid them.”

“I am not sure I can. This business with the Dean’s daughter –”

“I thought we were waiting until we had eaten,” Felix said.

Rothborough crumpled his napkin and laid it by his place.

“Point taken,” he said. “Finish your meat.”

“I have had my fill,” Felix said.

“Then we will go through to my book room,” said Lord Rothborough, getting up from the table.

The room adjoined the dining room, and was equally lavishly furnished.

“Sit,” said Lord Rothborough pointing to one of the chairs. He was pouring wine. “Let us get down to business. Why did you offer for her?”

“Because – does it matter?”

“I must press you on this – why did you offer for her? Why?”

“Because, I suppose I thought it would do me good to be married. That a wife would make me comfortable – if you get my meaning.”

“I do entirely,” said Lord Rothborough and to Felix’s great surprise and concern, he smiled broadly. “And I think I have solved our problem.”

“Our problem? It is my affair. This is what you will not understand.”

“Yes, yes, of course, you think I am a heartless meddler, do you not, Felix?”

“No sir, but –”

“Yes, you do. And I will have to do my best to persuade you otherwise. Now, we were speaking of young Axelmann just now. You must admit he has a great talent in capturing the female form.”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“He and I have been in correspondence. At the moment he is Germany, and he was good enough to send me this.” He took from a drawer a piece of pasteboard and held it out to Felix. “As good a draughtsman as he is with paint. A great talent.”

Felix looked at the card. It was a pencil sketch of a young woman, not much more than a girl. She did not smile or simper, but looked out intensely, her dark hair neatly parted in the centre.

“Very pretty,” he said, as blandly as he could, and handed it back to Lord Rothborough.

“You are not intrigued to know who she is?”

“You will tell me, whether I ask or not.”

“This charming girl is Lady Nina Dundas, only child of the late Earl of Thornhill. She is at school in Lausanne at present, but she will coming home after Easter. She is apparently an accomplished botanical painter – Axelman thought her work exceptional. She also speaks French and German fluently, which will endear her to the Queen and Prince Albert, since they speak German at home. How is your German, by the way, Felix?”

“Not as good as I would wish,” Felix said, thinking how he had recently struggled over an article in German.

“Ah, then she could tutor you.”

“Sir, I do not think –”

“I would like you two to become acquainted before the Season, so I have invited her to Holbroke after Easter, by which time you will be in possession at Ardenthwaite.”

“No, no,” said Felix. “I have no intention of meeting this young woman, let alone making myself agreeable to her.”

“You will meet her and you will make yourself agreeable. And I think you will be delighted with her. From everything I have heard, and particularly from young Axelmann’s account, she would be an ideal wife for you.”

“Then your damned Herr Axelmann should offer for her! He has as much right to try his luck as I do. And even if I did like her, there is little chance that she would like me,” said Felix. “She will not want to make a match with me. If she has any family pride, and if she has any regard for her inheritance, I will be nothing but a speck of dirt. How on earth will I appear to her otherwise?”

“That is not how it will appear. The way has been smoothed. Lady Thornhill and I have been in correspondence. She is prepared to consider the match – if, of course, you make a good impression on her.”