tilting his head to drag on his cigar. “Did you know? The hand-holding, you’ll find, is a bit of show. She’s his
muse
, don’t you know. I think you understand my meaning.”
Hector stepped through the French doors at that moment, as if he had seen his mother’s approach from the drawing room and felt compelled to greet her. Georgina was in his wake, with Bonzo coming behind. He flicked an unhappy glance at either Dominic or Oliver—Tom couldn’t tell which—then moved quickly to the edge of the steps.
“Mother.” The word seemed to suppress a world of exasperation.
“Hector, darling, I hope we’re not late.”
“No, Mummy.”
“Roberto was absorbed in his work, so …”
Hector smiled thinly at the young man. “Good of you to put something on.”
“Roberto is a bit of a … naturist.” Oliver continued whispering at Dominic. “Can be quite the sensation, I gather. If you fancy that sort of thing.”
“Fuck off, Oliver,” Dominic spat, though his eyes didn’t leave the new visitor.
“Maxie, my darling, don’t you look splendid!” Marguerite exclaimed. “Quite like the old days at Eggescombe,” she continued, directing a calculated smile at Georgina, who received the implied criticism with a frosty stare. “Everyone dressed resplendently for supper. Do you remember, Hector darling, Nanny bringing you down for presentation, and you doing a little turn in your jimjams?”
“Not really,” Hector responded impatiently. “Would you care for a drink? I’ll have Gaunt bring something.”
“Vodka and tonic.”
“Mr. Sica?” Hector’s lips drew to a pinch.
“Mineral water.” They were the newcomer’s first words. He spoke gravely, with a hint of disdain.
“Of course,” Hector murmured dryly, removing himself from the scrum.
“I thought I’d like to see how our patient is coming along.” Marguerite moved down the terrace. “Tom, you’re supposed to be resting, with your feet up,” she admonished him, though her eyes were lively with amusement.
“I’m afraid I couldn’t bear all the lying about.”
“Well, I expect you’ll live. I’ve also found a cast boot for you to wear. I pulled one off St. John Ambulance before they left, so we can fix you up with it tomorrow. And this must be your daughter.” Marguerite extended her hand. “Miranda,
enchantée de faire votre connaissance
. Max here has been telling me about you. I’m sorry we didn’t meet earlier. I understand you’re absolutely wizard—Maxie’s favourite word—at French, which unfortunately Max is not doing well in at school. You must give him a lesson.”
“Moi de même.”
Miranda took the dowager countess’s hand and smiled up at her shyly.
“If only I’d run up some pretty dress for you to wear. You and Maxie could have been a matched set and put us all to shame.”
“You’ve never ‘run up’ anything in your life, Mummy.” Hector returned, followed by Gaunt with a silver tray and two crystal glasses.
“I learned dressmaking at Mon Fertile, Hector. I’ve simply never had any need to apply it. But I could sew a dress if I set my mind to it. I’m sure I saw a machine in one of the attic rooms when I was looking for crutches for Mr. Christmas.” Marguerite seemed to hesitate over the tray’s offerings, which looked alike. Gaunt tilted the tray to indicate the vodka.
“You are joining us for supper, Marguerite, yes?” Georgina spoke.
“If you’ll have me, my dear. Please don’t let me interrupt you in whatever you were doing. Now,” she continued. “Some introductions I think are in order. This is Roberto Sica. Roberto, this is Tom Christmas, who is vicar of St. Nicholas Church in Thornford Regis, for whom today’s jump was done, which you missed of course, busy boy. And his daughter, Miranda. I don’t think you’ve met Dominic fforde-Beckett before, have you. Odd you haven’t. You’re both in the same sort of … line of work, I suppose one could say. Georgina’s
muse
, don’t you know. I think you understand my meaning.”
Hector stepped through the French doors at that moment, as if he had seen his mother’s approach from the drawing room and felt compelled to greet her. Georgina was in his wake, with Bonzo coming behind. He flicked an unhappy glance at either Dominic or Oliver—Tom couldn’t tell which—then moved quickly to the edge of the steps.
“Mother.” The word seemed to suppress a world of exasperation.
“Hector, darling, I hope we’re not late.”
“No, Mummy.”
“Roberto was absorbed in his work, so …”
Hector smiled thinly at the young man. “Good of you to put something on.”
“Roberto is a bit of a … naturist.” Oliver continued whispering at Dominic. “Can be quite the sensation, I gather. If you fancy that sort of thing.”
“Fuck off, Oliver,” Dominic spat, though his eyes didn’t leave the new visitor.
“Maxie, my darling, don’t you look splendid!” Marguerite exclaimed. “Quite like the old days at Eggescombe,” she continued, directing a calculated smile at Georgina, who received the implied criticism with a frosty stare. “Everyone dressed resplendently for supper. Do you remember, Hector darling, Nanny bringing you down for presentation, and you doing a little turn in your jimjams?”
“Not really,” Hector responded impatiently. “Would you care for a drink? I’ll have Gaunt bring something.”
“Vodka and tonic.”
“Mr. Sica?” Hector’s lips drew to a pinch.
“Mineral water.” They were the newcomer’s first words. He spoke gravely, with a hint of disdain.
“Of course,” Hector murmured dryly, removing himself from the scrum.
“I thought I’d like to see how our patient is coming along.” Marguerite moved down the terrace. “Tom, you’re supposed to be resting, with your feet up,” she admonished him, though her eyes were lively with amusement.
“I’m afraid I couldn’t bear all the lying about.”
“Well, I expect you’ll live. I’ve also found a cast boot for you to wear. I pulled one off St. John Ambulance before they left, so we can fix you up with it tomorrow. And this must be your daughter.” Marguerite extended her hand. “Miranda,
enchantée de faire votre connaissance
. Max here has been telling me about you. I’m sorry we didn’t meet earlier. I understand you’re absolutely wizard—Maxie’s favourite word—at French, which unfortunately Max is not doing well in at school. You must give him a lesson.”
“Moi de même.”
Miranda took the dowager countess’s hand and smiled up at her shyly.
“If only I’d run up some pretty dress for you to wear. You and Maxie could have been a matched set and put us all to shame.”
“You’ve never ‘run up’ anything in your life, Mummy.” Hector returned, followed by Gaunt with a silver tray and two crystal glasses.
“I learned dressmaking at Mon Fertile, Hector. I’ve simply never had any need to apply it. But I could sew a dress if I set my mind to it. I’m sure I saw a machine in one of the attic rooms when I was looking for crutches for Mr. Christmas.” Marguerite seemed to hesitate over the tray’s offerings, which looked alike. Gaunt tilted the tray to indicate the vodka.
“You are joining us for supper, Marguerite, yes?” Georgina spoke.
“If you’ll have me, my dear. Please don’t let me interrupt you in whatever you were doing. Now,” she continued. “Some introductions I think are in order. This is Roberto Sica. Roberto, this is Tom Christmas, who is vicar of St. Nicholas Church in Thornford Regis, for whom today’s jump was done, which you missed of course, busy boy. And his daughter, Miranda. I don’t think you’ve met Dominic fforde-Beckett before, have you. Odd you haven’t. You’re both in the same sort of … line of work, I suppose one could say. Georgina’s
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