When It Rained at Hembry Castle Chapter 12

Dinner at Hembry Castle

E

dward took over the editorial duties at the Daily Observer with fervor, keeping everyone on task and making sure the printers were on time. He put out word that he was hiring for his reporter position, and a few names had come his way. He was good at this, Edward, as Frederick Meriwether had predicted, and there was some satisfaction in being the youngest editor in London (he was still only four-and-twenty). Yet no matter how well he handled his tasks, no matter how well oiled his newspaper machine, no matter that Fergusonandwately had very nearly said yes to publishing a collection of his stories, there was still a whinging inside his brain, some want he was afraid to name. He was used to longing for things. When he decided to make his way in the world through his own volition he became stubborn, working harder than everyone else, faster than everyone else. He was the first to arrive at the office and the last to leave, writing his own stories in whatever spare time he could scrape together. He had a complete vision for his life, including whom he would marry and how they would live. Now here was Daphne, and she was no inchoate concept of the future. She was real, she was there, and though he still convinced himself there was no way, he wanted to be near her. At that moment she was in the country at Hembry Castle, and though it wasn’t so very far, it was far enough, and he had to fight the distraction that thinking of her brought on. He had to be on his toes at the newspaper since everyone’s eyes were on him.

Frederick had left him in charge over others who were older and more experienced, and the others who were older and more experienced didn’t hide their animosity. Men can gossip as well as women, and with equal vehemence. That whippersnapper Ellis is nothing but an upstart—the grandson of servants! How can this boy (who hasn’t even grown a beard) tell me what to do? Edward handled the men with patience and humor, the way Mr. Meriwether had, and after a few weeks the jagged agitation settled to a mildly irritated hum as the men found Edward knowledgeable with an eye for detail and able to handle the demands of the job. Occasionally, Edward still heard a mumble or two directed his way, but he focused on his work, not the approval of others, and soon even the mumbles died away.

Of everyone in the office, Wellesley was the one who seemed to take Edward’s advancement the hardest, as though Edward’s promotion was a personal insult directed at him (people are not always happy for you when good things happen). Two months after Edward had taken over the newspaper, Wellesley walked into Edward’s office and fell haphazardly into the chair on the other side of the desk. Edward didn’t know what to make of Wellesley. Some days Wellesley had nothing but clipped words, and other days he was full of high spirits—talkative, easy to laugh, and there were glimmers of their friendship from days gone by. What mood was Wellesley in today? Edward held his breath while he waited. Wellesley rested his boots on Edward’s desk and smiled.

“How are things, Mr. Ellis?”

“I can’t complain, Mr. Wellesley.”

“And how is the Earl of Staton?”

“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen him. How is the Queen?”

“Still in mourning, poor old girl. You’d think she’d be past it by now, but there it is. How is Miss Meriwether?”

“As far as I know she’s well. I haven’t seen her either. You’re asking because…?”

“Just wondering. You know pretty girls like that are usually grabbed up by some Lord Howdeedo.”

Edward sighed. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“Not at all. I just wanted a word with my best mate.”

“Are we best mates?”

“Perhaps. How is Miss Chattaway?”

“She’s well, thank you.”

“And you’ve set a date?”

“A date?”

“For the wedding. Certainly you haven’t forgotten about the wedding where you’ll marry Miss Chattaway?”

“I haven’t forgotten about the wedding, and the date is none of your business. I apologize, Mr. Wellesley, but I’m rather busy at the moment.”

Edward opened the door, and Wellesley bowed and left. Edward’s head pounded, so he poured himself a glass of water and held the glass to his forehead. When his racing heart settled he called to the others since it was time for the edition to go off to the printer’s. After the edition was sent there was a ten minute lull, and then the bustle began for the next edition. There were several important decisions looming, and Edward had a sudden thought. He felt perfectly capable making those decisions, though he decided the others would accept his decisions more easily if Mr. Meriwether approved. Edward could send a telegram, but no. After all, Hembry wasn’t so very far by train, and he could be there and back before anyone missed him. He didn’t need a lot of Mr. Meriwether’s time, just a quick signature or two.

Edward told Tewson to keep an eye on things while he was gone. When Tewson agreed, Edward grabbed his hat and left at a sprint, walking from Gough Square to Red Lion Court to Fleet Street until he hailed a hansom cab. Since the cab was unoccupied, Edward waved at the driver and shouted directions, to no response. Edward realized the man was soothing his whinnying horse, who appeared dazed by the London traffic, as though he, the horse, couldn’t believe how busy the streets were that time of day. As the driver spoke babyish words, Edward grew impatient.

“If you’re not able to take me to King’s Cross, then I’ll...”

The driver turned to Edward. “Did you need to get somewhere, young man?”

Edward sighed. “King’s Cross.”

“Why didn’t you say so? Hop in!”

The horse took off at a bolt before Edward was seated. The cab raced down the street, dodging every person, every vehicle, every stray dog or cat, as though its wheels were on fire and it was racing toward Hell itself. Edward fell against the seat with a painful thud and held on for dear life, watching Gray’s Inn Road with only one eye. So it’s true, Edward thought as the cab thundered down the street. You really do see your life flash before your eyes when you’re going to die. “Yoho!” the driver yelled, and the horse went faster. Ladies screamed and men cursed as they jumped out of the path of the wayward vehicle while the driver looked on, unconcerned, pressing the horse faster, as if saying this was the way it had to be and such is life. Edward, his fingers aching from grasping onto whatever he could hold, stared with his one eye through the window to see if the wheels were on fire after all. He saw no flames, though he was certain there were sparks from the feet of the people leaping out of the way. Suddenly, the cab screeched to a halt.

“King’s Cross!” the driver yelled. The man turned to Edward and named his price. Edward would have gladly paid that and twicefold more in gratitude—after all, he did arrive at his destination in one piece. Edward steadied his legs and caught his breath, pleased to discover that he had survived the journey without any visible injuries.

When he arrived at the servants’ entrance at Hembry Castle the little maid Jemima opened the door. She let him in, calling one of the other maids to fetch Mr. or Mrs. Ellis. In a moment, Mrs. Ellis arrived.

“Neddie! What a surprise.” She eyed her grandson. “Shall I tell her you’re here?”

“Her?”

“Miss Daphne.”

“Don’t be silly, Grandmother. I’m here to see Mr. Meriwether.”

“Is he expecting you?”

“He…I…”

“I see.”

Edward followed his grandmother into the servants’ hall. Mrs. Ellis gestured for Edward to sit at the table. She spoke softly so no one could overhear. “She’s beautiful, Neddie. She’s a wonderful person, a kind person. In many ways she’s everything I would have wanted in a wife for you. But she’s Lord Staton’s niece. You know what that means.”

“I don’t believe Daphne would marry a man simply because her grandmother told her to.”

“Daphne?”

“Miss Meriwether. She has her own mind, and I don’t see her being particularly impressed with a man simply because of his lineage.”

“I don’t know, Edward. What about those American heiresses her ladyship keeps talking about? Those young women seem very happy to have an English husband with a title. They’ve come here solely with the purpose of trying to catch one.”

“But Daphne’s not like that. She was laughing about the way her grandmother has been trying to get her to behave. And Mr. Meriwether isn’t like the rest of his family either.”

“No, he isn’t. Now…” She turned at the voices behind her and saw Jemima and Ruth huddled together. “Can I help you?” The girls scampered away. Mrs. Ellis sighed. “It just goes to show, if you don’t want anyone to hear what you say, don’t say it.”

Mr. Ellis joined them in the servants’ hall. “And to what do we owe this visit?”

Edward shrugged. “I came to ask Mr. Meriwether...”

“I’ve been speaking to him, Augustus. I think he understands.”

“I can’t help seeing her,” Edward said. “She’s the daughter of the man I work for. It would be extremely rude of me not to speak to her when she and her father are together.”

“Your grandmother and I are concerned about you, Edward, that’s all.”

Mrs. Ellis took her grandson’s hand. “I feel like you’re about to do something foolish, and I want you to be on your guard. I’m afraid Miss Daphne may have given you the wrong impression. She’s less formal in her manners, and I think you might be taking her ways as interest.”

“Because she could never be interested in me.”

“That’s not what I mean. Any young woman would be lucky to have you.”

“Christina said Miss Meriwether showed an interest in me.”

“When was this?” Mrs. Ellis asked.

“When Christina and her mother came to call on Lady Staton.”

“Well,” said Mrs. Ellis, “at least you remember the name of the young woman you’re engaged to.”

The kitchen maid stopped by the door, waiting for permission to come in. Mrs. Ellis waved and the girl set the tea tray on the table. Mrs. Ellis poured Edward’s tea.

“You and Miss Chattaway will be very happy together, Neddie. I’m sure of it.” She put the steaming cup in front of Edward, but he didn’t touch it.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Mr. Ellis said. “I need to check on his lordship.”

“How is he?” Mrs. Ellis asked. “He’s seemed a bit taciturn since he’s been home.”

“Mr. Frederick is with him now.”

“Let’s hope Mr. Frederick can talk some sense into him.”

Edward and his grandmother sat in silence over untouched teacups. In a moment, Mr. Ellis returned.

“I told his lordship and Mr. Frederick you were here, Edward, and they were adamant you stay for dinner. It seems you made a good impression on his lordship the last time you were here.”

“I didn’t bring a change of clothes,” Edward said.

“You can borrow what you’ll need from your grandfather,” Mrs. Ellis said. “You’re nearly the same size. I should warn you that her ladyship has invited several young men to dine tonight.”

“Why?” Edward asked.

“Miss Daphne will be one-and-twenty next year, and her ladyship was concerned that there will be many younger, more blooming roses on display next Season. Her ladyship decided it would be all right to bend the rules a bit and introduce Miss Daphne to some eligible young men. Her ladyship thinks she’ll be giving Miss Daphne a head start this way. I wouldn’t expect her ladyship to bend the rules, ever, but she believes the potential grooms and their families will overlook the lack of Miss Daphne’s presentation since she spent her life in America where her ladyship had no control over her upbringing.”

Edward took a crumpet from the tray, smothered it in strawberry jam, then left it untouched on his plate. “So the race to find the highest bidder has begun?”

“I wanted you to know before you went upstairs.”

“You don’t have to go,” said Mr. Ellis. “I can make your excuses.”

“No,” Edward said. “I’ll go.”

“You should change then,” said Mrs. Ellis.

After Edward changed he felt even more uncomfortable than he already did. His grandfather’s dress coat was made of black superfine cloth and lined with black glace silk—very handsome-looking but slightly large on Edward’s frame. The black poplin waistcoat hung a little lower than it should have, and the black cashmere trousers itched some. He straightened his white tie, exhaled, and followed his grandfather upstairs.

Dinner at Hembry Castle

was a more formal occasion than luncheon, and Edward was fascinated as he watched the night’s drama unfold. Tonight, his lordship was present, having returned from London, or Paris, or Timbuktu, or wherever it was he had disappeared to (no one was certain so rumors abounded). Mr. John Hough was there, along with others Edward remembered from luncheon: the black-haired, white-faced Poppers, a red carnation still fixed in his buttonhole, and Carlton was there, his long mouth still pulled into a perpetual smile. Young Mr. Palmers wasn’t present—presumably because the poor fellow hadn’t recovered from his winking fit the last time he was at Hembry. That night Edward was introduced to other young men as well, one known as Patrick Warren, another known as the Honorable Eamon Fronmer. George Hartwick, the future Duke of Norley, known in polite society as Lord Darges since he carried one of his father’s lesser titles, was also present, along with two of his sisters, Lady Lorelai and Lady Ariadne Hartwick. His youngest sister, Lady Gertrude, was not invited. She had not yet been presented so she was invisible to Society—as Daphne should have been but for her grandmother’s bending the rules. Lady Lorelai and Lady Ariadne looked like twins, Edward thought, both fair-haired and green-eyed, holding their turkey necks at awkward angles, their frames thin to the point of frailty. The future duke was a young man about Edward’s own age who constantly brushed his long fair hair from his pungent green eyes, and Edward pictured the future duke twirling his walrus mustache like a villain in a melodrama. When Daphne entered the drawing room wearing a mauve dinner dress with gold trim and ruffles at the bustle, everyone in the room turned while the Hartwick sisters snickered behind their fans. Edward guessed the snickers hid the jealousy the two plain girls must have felt in the presence of the lovely Daphne, who lit the room the way the sun brightens the sky.

For that night’s dinner her ladyship had been able to secure enough ladies to complement the number of gentlemen. After Edward’s grandfather announced dinner everyone followed protocol and entered the dining room two-by-two, looking, as the Earl had said when Edward visited for luncheon, like animals herded onto Noah’s Ark. There was a seriousness about it all as Lady Staton paired off the gentleman with the highest rank with the lady of the highest rank and so on down the line. Each pair followed in procession into the sunshine dining room where their seating arrangements were denoted by calligraphied cards. Edward had been paired with a Miss Soandso, who may have been an Honorable Someoneorother, he wasn’t sure. At table, Miss Soandso sat to his right, while to his left was Lady Lorelai Hartwick, the future duke’s sister, and he soon discovered that Lady Lorelai’s job for the evening was to make her brother a most appealing marriage option for Daphne. Edward wanted to cover his ears, and his eyes, with his napkin while Lady Lorelai jabbered on about her brother, how he lately finished his studies at Oxford, only two years behind schedule, how his athletic accomplishments had no equal in England, how he is much loved by his companions, and how he is simply the greatest, kindest, most attentive brother in the world. Edward’s dinner companion, Miss Soandso, who may be been an Honorable Someoneorother, shrugged at whatever Lady Lorelai said, more occupied with the roast on her plate than anything else.

Of course, Edward was too enamored by Daphne to think much about Miss Soandso. Daphne was polite to Lord Darges, who talked to no end about hunting expeditions at all the great houses and his close association with the nobility who lived in those houses. Was Daphne impressed by Lord Darges? Edward couldn’t tell. The future Duke of Norley was languid in the aristocratic way, speaking about himself as though, while others might find him fascinating, he had yet to impress himself. Though he loathed to do so, Edward had to admit the future duke was a good looking young man. Add to that his inherited land and a manor that put Hembry Castle to shame, and perhaps Daphne might be tempted after all.

Edward was pulled from his reverie by his grandfather’s “A hem!” as he poured wine into Edward’s glass. Edward felt his cheeks blaze when he noticed the Countess of Staton watching him. Was his grandfather trying to warn him? Were his feelings for Daphne that obvious? The painful realization struck Edward like smoke clearing from a fire—Daphne might be won over by an heir after all. The thought made him want to scream, or at least strangle George Hartwick by his turkey neck.

After dinner, when the ladies retired to the drawing room, the gentlemen stayed around the table with their brandy and cigars. Lord Darges lit Frederick’s cigar.

“Tell me about your daughter.”

“What would you like to know?”

“She was brought up in America?”

“She’s American through and through. She’s not at all familiar with our way of life.”

“But she can learn, certainly.”

Frederick puffed on his cigar, eyeing the future duke through a smoky haze. “My daughter is an intelligent young woman. She can learn whatever she puts her mind to.”

“She knows Pitman shorthand,” Edward added. “She learned shorthand to help her father with his newspaper work.” Edward looked around the room, expecting a disapproving look from his grandfather, but Mr. Ellis wasn’t there.

“What on earth would a well-born young woman want with Pitman shorthand?” When there was no reply, the future duke said, “She is certainly one of the loveliest young women I’ve seen. Americans are so...”

“Yes?” Frederick said.

The future duke cleared his throat. “It’s a shame she hasn’t been presented.”

“I believe my mother’s plan is to fix that next season,” said Lord Staton, looking alive for the first time since dinner began. He had a curious expression as he studied Lord Darges, as though he were trying to piece together some puzzle only the future duke could solve.

Lord Darges blew a ring of smoke across the table as he considered. “All I can say is I’m certain Miss Meriwether will make some man a very decent wife after some instruction. Is it true she cooks?”

“American-style biscuits,” Edward said.

Frederick grabbed the brandy bottle and refilled his glass. “I’m certain that you, as the heir to the Duke of Norley, have a number of potential wives at the ready who are far more well versed in this way of life. You shouldn’t need to worry about marrying someone who knows shorthand or bakes her own biscuits. To be honest, and I share this in friendship, I’m not certain my daughter is the best choice for you.”

“I believe my brother may well be right,” the Earl of Staton said. Lord Staton nodded as though he had solved the puzzle after all. “I don’t believe my niece is the right choice for you.”

Lord Darges sat up straighter, ready for the duel. “Don’t you think Miss Meriwether is the best judge of who would or would not make a suitable match?” He glared at Lord Staton, who stared back unperturbed.

“Gentlemen.” Lord Staton stood, brandy bottle in hand. “Is anyone else up for a game of poker?”

Frederick looked at his brother. “Perhaps that isn’t a wise idea tonight.”

“Nonsense, Freddie. I need a chance to win back that packet I lost to Warren here in London.”

Lord Darges laughed as he crunched out his smoldering cigar. “Your luck hasn’t held since you’ve become Earl of Staton, Dickie.”

“He didn’t have much luck before,” snickered Warren. “You should also try to win back the money you lost to Stevenson, and then you should try to win back the money you lost to Cranston, and then…

“That’s enough,” said the Earl. “You’re making me sound like an easy target, and we don’t want to give these gentlemen any ideas.” Mr. Ellis entered the dining room. “Ellis, tell the ladies we’re playing cards. Have the brandy and cigars brought to the smoking room.”

As Mr. Ellis disappeared, Lord Darges noticed Edward for the first time. “Do you play cards?”

“I’m afraid not,” Edward said. “I prefer sure things.”

“That must be difficult since there are never sure things in this life.”

“Then we must work hard to turn the tides of favor in our direction.”

Lord Darges twirled his walrus mustache as he stepped closer to Edward. “And you are…?”

“The butler’s grandson.”

Lord Darges laughed. “Is he one of your young men, Dickie? You always did have a sense of humor about those you keep company with.”

“Young Mr. Ellis here is a journalist and the editor of the Daily Observer,” Frederick said. “And he’s an author in his own right. I believe young Mr. Ellis here will be the next Mr. Dickens.”

“The next Dickens?” Lord Darges spat the name out like spoiled soup. “Wasn’t the first one bad enough? All that man ever did was make a mockery of our kind of people. He never showed the slightest understanding of our way of life.”

“I believe that was the point,” Edward said.

Lord Staton’s friend, Poppers, stopped midsentence in his whispered conversation with Carlton, Warren, and Fronmer, and the four men watched the future Duke of Norley walk to the door.

“Forgive me, Lord Darges,” Carlton called to the future duke, his long mouth stretched to his ears. “I thought you looked familiar, though I can’t recall where we may have met. Was it watching Boulton and Parke in the shopping arcades of the West End?”

The future duke colored to a sunburned pink. “I may have seen them engaging in their shenanigans at the Oxford Cambridge boat race.”

The Earl of Staton laughed heartily. “Come now, Darges. Surely you remember when you and I saw them at the casino in Holborn. I don’t know how you could forget. They tried to kiss you.”

Now the future duke was an unpleasant plum shade, and Edward thought this is what the hanged men must look like when it was over, discolored and swollen.

“They were arrested for their folly,” Lord Darges muttered.

“But it didn’t stick, did it?” Frederick held the door for the others as they made their way toward the smoking room. “They were arrested earlier this year but they were acquitted when no one would testify against them. They were two grown men in women’s clothing. What harm did they do, really?”

“None at all, Freddie,” said the Earl. Lord Staton grinned at the future Duke of Norley, who would not return the Earl’s gaze.

Edward followed the others up the wide staircase to the smoking room that was definitely a man’s room with its dark-paneled walls and black and gold carpeting. Edward studied the gold-framed paintings and he realized that one wall contained the portraits of family hunting dogs. One dog even wore a white wig and a crimson House of Lords robe. As the peacock and Colin set out the card table, the chairs, the replenished brandy bottles, and the cigar boxes, Frederick leaned close to his eldest brother and whispered. When Lord Staton remained impassive, Frederick exhaled, nodded at the others, and left. Edward followed him.

“You don’t need to leave on my account,” Frederick said. “If you’d like to play cards, please do.”

“As I said, I prefer sure things.”

“I’m afraid Lord Darges was correct, Edward. Nothing is certain in this world.” Frederick looked at the closed door of the smoking room. “Do you have everything you need for the Observer? Perhaps I should return to London. Or even better New York.” They heard raucous laughter through the door. The glasses of brandy had taken their effect.

“Are you returning to America so soon?” Edward asked.

“I was going to, but my mother has asked me to stay a while longer.”

“Perhaps you should stay.” When Frederick smiled at him, Edward stammered. “I mean, that is, if you think it best. Your family needs you, and we certainly need you at the Observer. I can keep the paper afloat for now but only with your help.”

“I’ve heard quite the contrary. I understand the men have come to respect you and they’re following your lead, even if it was grudgingly at first. The truth is, Edward, I don’t think you need me there as much as you believe you do.”

“But everyone at the paper looks to you for guidance, including me.”

Frederick looked at the closed door. “I can’t deny that in many ways I’ve enjoyed being home. And I’m pleased that Daphne is finally getting to know England. Actually, I believe she may enjoy staying longer. What do you think? Should we stay or should we go?”

Edward was afraid of giving himself away so he nodded in response. At Frederick’s request, Mrs. Ellis had a guest room prepared for Edward, though Edward got little sleep that night, unable to stop thinking about Daphne. In the morning he was on the first train back to London, so he had no time to see her before he left, which was probably just as well.