Osbert.’
Charlotte turned a startled gaze upon her. ‘I’m sorry to hear that, Lady Granville,’ she felt she should apologise on behalf of her brother and sister-in-law, their hosts. ‘I’m afraid I did not observe that, I think there was somebody obscuring my view at the time. What an uncomfortable thing to happen.’
‘It is no matter,’ sniffed the lady, evidently mollified by this apology. ‘It is merely an example of London manners, I suppose, something that has made me both impatient and weary so that I was glad to take leave of the capital. I am most relieved that Lord Granville has decided to relinquish some of his Londonresponsibilities so that we will be spending a great deal more time at home in Hampshire.’
Charlotte was glad to recall something that might interest the lady and deflect her complaints. ‘I believe I heard somewhere that you are the creator of a wonderful mediaeval garden, are you not?’ It was probably politic to avoid mention of her discussion with the Granville boy lest his mother take umbrage. ‘I was so interested to hear of it. As you might not be aware, I was born and brought up in Australia so anything of historical, old-world significance is most intriguing to me.’
‘Really?’ Lady Granville’s gaunt, but still-handsome features took on a lively expression as she turned eagerly to the younger woman, shaken out of her indifference by the reference to her pastime. ‘I did not know that. Indeed, I should be delighted to show you my garden, Mrs Richmond, if you are sure that it would be of interest you? Do, pray, allow me the pleasure of inviting you to tea tomorrow at Brambrook Abbey. My garden is indeed my great treasure, apart…’ her fond smile enlivened and lifted her sallow face from its habitual air of chill and ruined beauty as she beheld her son, ‘apart, I should say, from my very
greatest
treasure, of course: my son Osbert.’
Her expression grew even more gracious as Charlotte turned to look at the object of Lady Granville’s adoration and smiled in her turn as Oz – poor lad, she thought, no wonder he refuses to answer to Osbert – backed silently out of the room with both hands filled with sugar plums that he had grabbed from one of Lily’s best silver side dishes in passing. Alas for his attempt at escape. In his haste to elude his parent, Oz bumped into Charlotte’s bugbear, Melicent Penbury, and had to make hasty apologies while the other ladies, his father and Dr Chant all turned to watch him.
Pricked by conscience and feeling that, as a member of the family she owed a duty to her hosts, Charlotte was immediately at the ready to offer assistance, knowing that, years earlier, Melicent had lost a leg in an unfortunate carriage accident. This made her sometimes unsteady on the artificial one but on this occasion the former governess righted herself with the clumsy but willing helpof the Granville boy, whose friendly smile was wiped from his face when Melicent began to gush.
‘Why thank you, Master Granville.’ The boy gave an awkward bow and was about to escape when Melicent, with the archness she always assumed in male company of any age, continued, ‘What do you have to say about the dreadful event that occurred so recently in your own grounds? But there, young lads thrive upon such excitements, do they not?’ Charlotte bit her lip in exasperation and made to move forward as the boy glared at his persecutor, his cheeks suddenly pale. He turned on his heel and walked away. Charlotte relaxed for a moment until she heard a sudden sound, a sharp intake of breath perhaps, or a slight groan. She whipped round, puzzled, and wondering if someone had been taken ill. Lady Granville was staring at the group still standing by the wassail bowl, her face looking unaccountably drawn and heavy, as she looked from one to the other then cast a glance in the direction of her son’s fast-disappearing back view.
‘Is something wrong, Lady Granville?’
Charlotte turned a startled gaze upon her. ‘I’m sorry to hear that, Lady Granville,’ she felt she should apologise on behalf of her brother and sister-in-law, their hosts. ‘I’m afraid I did not observe that, I think there was somebody obscuring my view at the time. What an uncomfortable thing to happen.’
‘It is no matter,’ sniffed the lady, evidently mollified by this apology. ‘It is merely an example of London manners, I suppose, something that has made me both impatient and weary so that I was glad to take leave of the capital. I am most relieved that Lord Granville has decided to relinquish some of his Londonresponsibilities so that we will be spending a great deal more time at home in Hampshire.’
Charlotte was glad to recall something that might interest the lady and deflect her complaints. ‘I believe I heard somewhere that you are the creator of a wonderful mediaeval garden, are you not?’ It was probably politic to avoid mention of her discussion with the Granville boy lest his mother take umbrage. ‘I was so interested to hear of it. As you might not be aware, I was born and brought up in Australia so anything of historical, old-world significance is most intriguing to me.’
‘Really?’ Lady Granville’s gaunt, but still-handsome features took on a lively expression as she turned eagerly to the younger woman, shaken out of her indifference by the reference to her pastime. ‘I did not know that. Indeed, I should be delighted to show you my garden, Mrs Richmond, if you are sure that it would be of interest you? Do, pray, allow me the pleasure of inviting you to tea tomorrow at Brambrook Abbey. My garden is indeed my great treasure, apart…’ her fond smile enlivened and lifted her sallow face from its habitual air of chill and ruined beauty as she beheld her son, ‘apart, I should say, from my very
greatest
treasure, of course: my son Osbert.’
Her expression grew even more gracious as Charlotte turned to look at the object of Lady Granville’s adoration and smiled in her turn as Oz – poor lad, she thought, no wonder he refuses to answer to Osbert – backed silently out of the room with both hands filled with sugar plums that he had grabbed from one of Lily’s best silver side dishes in passing. Alas for his attempt at escape. In his haste to elude his parent, Oz bumped into Charlotte’s bugbear, Melicent Penbury, and had to make hasty apologies while the other ladies, his father and Dr Chant all turned to watch him.
Pricked by conscience and feeling that, as a member of the family she owed a duty to her hosts, Charlotte was immediately at the ready to offer assistance, knowing that, years earlier, Melicent had lost a leg in an unfortunate carriage accident. This made her sometimes unsteady on the artificial one but on this occasion the former governess righted herself with the clumsy but willing helpof the Granville boy, whose friendly smile was wiped from his face when Melicent began to gush.
‘Why thank you, Master Granville.’ The boy gave an awkward bow and was about to escape when Melicent, with the archness she always assumed in male company of any age, continued, ‘What do you have to say about the dreadful event that occurred so recently in your own grounds? But there, young lads thrive upon such excitements, do they not?’ Charlotte bit her lip in exasperation and made to move forward as the boy glared at his persecutor, his cheeks suddenly pale. He turned on his heel and walked away. Charlotte relaxed for a moment until she heard a sudden sound, a sharp intake of breath perhaps, or a slight groan. She whipped round, puzzled, and wondering if someone had been taken ill. Lady Granville was staring at the group still standing by the wassail bowl, her face looking unaccountably drawn and heavy, as she looked from one to the other then cast a glance in the direction of her son’s fast-disappearing back view.
‘Is something wrong, Lady Granville?’
Similar Books
