need to be on my guard against fortune hunters,’ Amanda replied. ‘But this is hardly the right place to combine a discussion of marital prospects with money.’
‘What happened to your relative?’ Sidney asked, anxious to change the subject away from a public debate about his friend’s private future.
Sir Mark continued, enjoying the attention. ‘It was more than a hundred years ago, over in Norfolk. I think that everyone knew there was something wrong with Freddie from the start. From an early age he never could tell when he had had enough to eat, and there are stories of him screeching, howling, slavering, carpet-biting, gorging on food, vomiting at the table, and even, on one occasion, ordering seventeen eggs for breakfast.’
‘Extraordinary,’ Amanda commented.
‘He also loved dressing up. In that respect, he was like a little boy even when he became an adult. One night he was nearly arrested after impersonating a policeman and rounding up fallen women in the Haymarket.
‘How did he ever marry?’
‘He was taken in by a family in St James’s. That was supposed to sort things out, but it didn’t go entirely to plan. One night he scalded himself in the bath and ran through the corridors naked. His landlady mistook his horrified ranting as a chance to expose himself.’
‘She complained?’
‘Volubly. Although it’s easy enough to scald yourself.’ Sir Mark looked down the table to his wife at the opposite end. ‘You’ve done that yourself, haven’t you, my darling?’
‘It was a silly mistake. I wasn’t thinking . . .’
‘So what happened?’ Shouty interrupted. ‘To your relative?’
‘A beautiful woman called Agnes Willoughby is “what happened”; together with an Italian opera singer and a confidence trickster. She seduced Freddie, even though she had two lovers already, and persuaded him to make over his entire estate to her on marriage. His uncle then had to save the family fortune and annul the marriage by saying that Freddie was a lunatic.’
‘Did he succeed?’
‘No. The case, De Lunatico Inquirendo , took place in the winter of 1861–2. It lasted thirty-four days at a cost of £20,000. There were a hundred and forty witnesses called, fifty for the petitioners and ninety for Frederick Windham, who was proud of his marriage and his sanity. The case collapsed, Freddie was ruined and he ended up living with his nanny. He died at the age of twenty-five after a fourteen-hour drinking session with a group of Ipswich post-boys.’
‘A lesson to avoid excess,’ Dr Robinson observed.
‘I once knew a priest who was prone to depression,’ said Sidney, hoping that no one in the company had heard his story before. ‘When he felt the horrors approaching, he would hole up in the grimmest boarding house in the most depressing town he could find, in order to plumb the very depths of his slough of despond. The idea was, that after hitting rock bottom, he would emerge into a world in which everything would look so much better than his most recent dismal experience. The town he chose for this misery, curiously enough, was Ipswich.’
‘My grandmother is from round there,’ Serena Stein added airily. ‘Not that it matters. I only hope the lunacy doesn’t run in the family.’
‘I should think not.’ Sir Mark turned to his wife. ‘You got off lightly with me, my darling.’
‘I’m very grateful.’
‘You don’t sound convinced,’ Serena observed.
Elizabeth made to move and the men around the table began to stand up. ‘I’m rather tired, will you excuse me?’
Her husband was having none of it. ‘Sit down, everyone.’ He turned on his wife. ‘How can you be tired? We’ve been the people who’ve been out in the cold all day. What have you been doing, woman?’
‘I’m sorry, Mark. I just feel very weak all of a sudden.’
‘You’re leaving?’
‘I don’t feel well. We have finished the pudding.’
Dr Robinson started towards her. ‘Is there anything
‘What happened to your relative?’ Sidney asked, anxious to change the subject away from a public debate about his friend’s private future.
Sir Mark continued, enjoying the attention. ‘It was more than a hundred years ago, over in Norfolk. I think that everyone knew there was something wrong with Freddie from the start. From an early age he never could tell when he had had enough to eat, and there are stories of him screeching, howling, slavering, carpet-biting, gorging on food, vomiting at the table, and even, on one occasion, ordering seventeen eggs for breakfast.’
‘Extraordinary,’ Amanda commented.
‘He also loved dressing up. In that respect, he was like a little boy even when he became an adult. One night he was nearly arrested after impersonating a policeman and rounding up fallen women in the Haymarket.
‘How did he ever marry?’
‘He was taken in by a family in St James’s. That was supposed to sort things out, but it didn’t go entirely to plan. One night he scalded himself in the bath and ran through the corridors naked. His landlady mistook his horrified ranting as a chance to expose himself.’
‘She complained?’
‘Volubly. Although it’s easy enough to scald yourself.’ Sir Mark looked down the table to his wife at the opposite end. ‘You’ve done that yourself, haven’t you, my darling?’
‘It was a silly mistake. I wasn’t thinking . . .’
‘So what happened?’ Shouty interrupted. ‘To your relative?’
‘A beautiful woman called Agnes Willoughby is “what happened”; together with an Italian opera singer and a confidence trickster. She seduced Freddie, even though she had two lovers already, and persuaded him to make over his entire estate to her on marriage. His uncle then had to save the family fortune and annul the marriage by saying that Freddie was a lunatic.’
‘Did he succeed?’
‘No. The case, De Lunatico Inquirendo , took place in the winter of 1861–2. It lasted thirty-four days at a cost of £20,000. There were a hundred and forty witnesses called, fifty for the petitioners and ninety for Frederick Windham, who was proud of his marriage and his sanity. The case collapsed, Freddie was ruined and he ended up living with his nanny. He died at the age of twenty-five after a fourteen-hour drinking session with a group of Ipswich post-boys.’
‘A lesson to avoid excess,’ Dr Robinson observed.
‘I once knew a priest who was prone to depression,’ said Sidney, hoping that no one in the company had heard his story before. ‘When he felt the horrors approaching, he would hole up in the grimmest boarding house in the most depressing town he could find, in order to plumb the very depths of his slough of despond. The idea was, that after hitting rock bottom, he would emerge into a world in which everything would look so much better than his most recent dismal experience. The town he chose for this misery, curiously enough, was Ipswich.’
‘My grandmother is from round there,’ Serena Stein added airily. ‘Not that it matters. I only hope the lunacy doesn’t run in the family.’
‘I should think not.’ Sir Mark turned to his wife. ‘You got off lightly with me, my darling.’
‘I’m very grateful.’
‘You don’t sound convinced,’ Serena observed.
Elizabeth made to move and the men around the table began to stand up. ‘I’m rather tired, will you excuse me?’
Her husband was having none of it. ‘Sit down, everyone.’ He turned on his wife. ‘How can you be tired? We’ve been the people who’ve been out in the cold all day. What have you been doing, woman?’
‘I’m sorry, Mark. I just feel very weak all of a sudden.’
‘You’re leaving?’
‘I don’t feel well. We have finished the pudding.’
Dr Robinson started towards her. ‘Is there anything
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