– of none other than the Prince of Wales.
Nevertheless, this looked like slowing things down. But now Lord Skillet made an obliging suggestion. Although he had found Dr Sutch for the job, it was only because his interfering Aunt Agatha had prompted his parents to insist on employing a person of that kind, and most of Archie’s references to the ‘pro’ were of a satiric or derogatory cast. With unusual good-humour, however, he undertook to do some of the donkey-work himself. Sutch had pointed out that it wasn’t only worm-eaten dinghies and triumphs of Victorian taxidermy that were plainly irrelevant to his task; there was also a great deal of mouldering paper which nobody could mistake for anything not fitly to be made a bonfire of or chucked into the sea; if Lord Skillet had a go at that it would be a very obliging thing.
So Archie, too, turned up twice a week at the castle and pottered around the North Tower. It couldn’t be said that he was in any direct sense keeping an eye on Dr Sutch, since on those days Dr Sutch was absent on his royal occasions. But he may have been keeping an eye on what Dr Sutch had been about.
And then Charles Digitt began to turn up occasionally as well. Was he, in turn, keeping an eye on Archie? This came into nobody’s head. And as he turned up only at weekends, when his cousin invariably had mysterious engagements elsewhere, he had the run of the place to himself. Lord Ampersand, as usual, welcomed the heir presumptive amiably enough; he explained to his wife, as he regularly and most conscientiously did, that Charles was entitled to know about anything that was going on at Treskinnick. And Lady Ampersand was delighted to have her nephew as a weekend guest. It was, she said, nice for the girls. This expression cloaked her persuasion that Charles had more than a cousin’s fondness for Geraldine, and that some eleventh-hour happiness would be achieved by her younger daughter as a result. A marriage between first cousins, she knew, was sometimes disapproved of on mysterious eugenic grounds. But the vicar (and the bishop) would have nothing against it, and on other accounts it would be an extremely suitable thing. Lady Ampersand sometimes started to count out on her fingers the somewhat disabling span of years sundering her posited lovers. But she always wisely gave up when she had arrived at the number ten.
But at Treskinnick Castle for a time, at least in a metaphorical sense, all went merry as a marriage bell (as the sixth Lord Byron had remarked of the Duchess of Richmond’s ball before the Battle of Waterloo). It was true that Dr Sutch, so far, had nothing to report. He appeared to have a conviction, irksome but to his credit as a serious scholar, that his commission was to delve into the entire, and for the most part entirely unremarkable, chronicles of the Digitt family. On one occasion he even announced with satisfaction that he had ‘got as far as the Civil War’. Lord Ampersand, although not very well-informed on the doings of Oliver Cromwell and Charles, King and Martyr, obscurely surmised that such massive public disorder could only have occurred a long time ago – even longer ago than Shelley and Lord Byron had occurred. But he was gratified to learn (or rather to be reminded) that Treskinnick Castle had been besieged and reduced in the course of whatever had then been happening. It appeared that this fate had befallen a great many other castles at the time, and it would be rather humiliating had Treskinnick been left out. Lord Skillet made fun of the irrelevance of this august historic occasion to the present circumstances of the Digitts, which were as reduced as the castle had been in the mid-seventeenth century. But in this judgement Lord Skillet, as it happened, was to be proved wrong.
A day came upon which Charles Digitt and Dr Ambrose Sutch did meet. Charles stretched one of his weekends into a long weekend, and on the Monday morning made his way up to the
Nevertheless, this looked like slowing things down. But now Lord Skillet made an obliging suggestion. Although he had found Dr Sutch for the job, it was only because his interfering Aunt Agatha had prompted his parents to insist on employing a person of that kind, and most of Archie’s references to the ‘pro’ were of a satiric or derogatory cast. With unusual good-humour, however, he undertook to do some of the donkey-work himself. Sutch had pointed out that it wasn’t only worm-eaten dinghies and triumphs of Victorian taxidermy that were plainly irrelevant to his task; there was also a great deal of mouldering paper which nobody could mistake for anything not fitly to be made a bonfire of or chucked into the sea; if Lord Skillet had a go at that it would be a very obliging thing.
So Archie, too, turned up twice a week at the castle and pottered around the North Tower. It couldn’t be said that he was in any direct sense keeping an eye on Dr Sutch, since on those days Dr Sutch was absent on his royal occasions. But he may have been keeping an eye on what Dr Sutch had been about.
And then Charles Digitt began to turn up occasionally as well. Was he, in turn, keeping an eye on Archie? This came into nobody’s head. And as he turned up only at weekends, when his cousin invariably had mysterious engagements elsewhere, he had the run of the place to himself. Lord Ampersand, as usual, welcomed the heir presumptive amiably enough; he explained to his wife, as he regularly and most conscientiously did, that Charles was entitled to know about anything that was going on at Treskinnick. And Lady Ampersand was delighted to have her nephew as a weekend guest. It was, she said, nice for the girls. This expression cloaked her persuasion that Charles had more than a cousin’s fondness for Geraldine, and that some eleventh-hour happiness would be achieved by her younger daughter as a result. A marriage between first cousins, she knew, was sometimes disapproved of on mysterious eugenic grounds. But the vicar (and the bishop) would have nothing against it, and on other accounts it would be an extremely suitable thing. Lady Ampersand sometimes started to count out on her fingers the somewhat disabling span of years sundering her posited lovers. But she always wisely gave up when she had arrived at the number ten.
But at Treskinnick Castle for a time, at least in a metaphorical sense, all went merry as a marriage bell (as the sixth Lord Byron had remarked of the Duchess of Richmond’s ball before the Battle of Waterloo). It was true that Dr Sutch, so far, had nothing to report. He appeared to have a conviction, irksome but to his credit as a serious scholar, that his commission was to delve into the entire, and for the most part entirely unremarkable, chronicles of the Digitt family. On one occasion he even announced with satisfaction that he had ‘got as far as the Civil War’. Lord Ampersand, although not very well-informed on the doings of Oliver Cromwell and Charles, King and Martyr, obscurely surmised that such massive public disorder could only have occurred a long time ago – even longer ago than Shelley and Lord Byron had occurred. But he was gratified to learn (or rather to be reminded) that Treskinnick Castle had been besieged and reduced in the course of whatever had then been happening. It appeared that this fate had befallen a great many other castles at the time, and it would be rather humiliating had Treskinnick been left out. Lord Skillet made fun of the irrelevance of this august historic occasion to the present circumstances of the Digitts, which were as reduced as the castle had been in the mid-seventeenth century. But in this judgement Lord Skillet, as it happened, was to be proved wrong.
A day came upon which Charles Digitt and Dr Ambrose Sutch did meet. Charles stretched one of his weekends into a long weekend, and on the Monday morning made his way up to the
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