I can do?’
‘Sit down, Michael. She’s often like this.’
‘Please, Mark, let me go . . .’
‘What about our guests; the ladies retiring?’
‘I can look after them,’ said Amanda.
‘You’re not the hostess.’
Elizabeth turned in the doorway. ‘Please, Mark, don’t make a fuss. It’s nothing to worry about. I may be able to come down again in a minute or two. I just need some air . . .’
Amanda stood up. ‘I’ll help you to your room.’
‘Hayworth can do that.’
Elizabeth was agitated. ‘I’d like Amanda.’
‘Rather defeats the purpose of the weekend if she goes off too.’
‘The purpose?’ Amanda asked.
‘To find you a rich husband, you silly woman. That was my wife’s plan.’
Elizabeth was too tired to argue. ‘Mark, this isn’t the time. I’m going upstairs.’
‘I don’t think that can be right,’ said Henry as gallantly as he could. ‘I’m sure Miss Kendall has plenty of admirers. She doesn’t need to come here to find any more.’
‘There are millions,’ Amanda replied. ‘I don’t know why I haven’t chosen anyone yet. I must be a “silly woman”. Please excuse me. I should see to Elizabeth.’
Rather than confront an embarrassed silence Sir Mark pretended that nothing had happened. ‘It’s just as well it’s time for port and cigars. At the rate we’re going we won’t have any women left. Where’s Muir?’ (The butler was already hovering, having seen the ladies to the staircase.) ‘Tell Hayworth to come in and clear the plates.’
‘That was a little harsh,’ said Shouty Meynell.
Henry Richmond kept his counsel.
‘Don’t you think you should see to your wife?’ Sidney asked.
‘It’s not me she needs. Besides, Amanda is with her; unless you’d like to go too. Not that you’d be much help . . .’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Her being a Roman Catholic.’
‘I don’t think that makes much difference in a situation like this.’
‘I think we should leave them to their own devices. Muir! Where’s the bloody port?’
Serena Stein withdrew with the doctor’s wife while the remaining men stayed at the table. Just after the women had left the room a plate was dropped.
‘FOR GOD’S SAKE!’ Sir Mark shouted but immediately relented on seeing that the culprit was Nancy Hayworth. ‘That’s all right, Rita, just clear it up.’
The conversation resumed, with more thoughts about shooting, estate management and the forthcoming balls, before the men finally rejoined the ladies in order to play a few rounds of bridge. Lady Kirby-Grey was ‘resting’ and Amanda tried not to look piqued in front of Henry Richmond. The row had left a stain on the proceedings, the resulting congenial atmosphere was unconvincing and the party broke up well before midnight.
Once they had retired to their room and exchanged a few eyebrow-raising observations on the course of the evening, Hildegard said that she was thirsty. She wasn’t sure how well she was going to sleep and wondered if there was any chance of a bedtime cup of cocoa. Sidney offered to find out.
As he descended the back stairs to the kitchen he saw Sir Mark leaning down in a distant doorway.
He heard a woman’s voice: ‘Get off me. I’ve told you. No hanky-panky. Someone will see.’
‘You know what I want.’
‘Then you have to bring me the money.’
It was Nancy Hayworth.
Sidney retreated quietly back up the stairs. Hildegard would have to survive without cocoa.
The next morning was Advent Sunday and, because the living at the local church of St Magnus the Martyr was vacant, Sidney had to sing for his supper. He preached on the subject of fragility and vulnerability, thinking not only of the Christ child but of Elizabeth, his hostess. He wanted to make sure that even Sir Mark understood what he was saying, and so he spoke slowly, without his customary friendliness, about how it was our responsibility to console those who mourn, support the weak and comfort the afflicted
‘Sit down, Michael. She’s often like this.’
‘Please, Mark, let me go . . .’
‘What about our guests; the ladies retiring?’
‘I can look after them,’ said Amanda.
‘You’re not the hostess.’
Elizabeth turned in the doorway. ‘Please, Mark, don’t make a fuss. It’s nothing to worry about. I may be able to come down again in a minute or two. I just need some air . . .’
Amanda stood up. ‘I’ll help you to your room.’
‘Hayworth can do that.’
Elizabeth was agitated. ‘I’d like Amanda.’
‘Rather defeats the purpose of the weekend if she goes off too.’
‘The purpose?’ Amanda asked.
‘To find you a rich husband, you silly woman. That was my wife’s plan.’
Elizabeth was too tired to argue. ‘Mark, this isn’t the time. I’m going upstairs.’
‘I don’t think that can be right,’ said Henry as gallantly as he could. ‘I’m sure Miss Kendall has plenty of admirers. She doesn’t need to come here to find any more.’
‘There are millions,’ Amanda replied. ‘I don’t know why I haven’t chosen anyone yet. I must be a “silly woman”. Please excuse me. I should see to Elizabeth.’
Rather than confront an embarrassed silence Sir Mark pretended that nothing had happened. ‘It’s just as well it’s time for port and cigars. At the rate we’re going we won’t have any women left. Where’s Muir?’ (The butler was already hovering, having seen the ladies to the staircase.) ‘Tell Hayworth to come in and clear the plates.’
‘That was a little harsh,’ said Shouty Meynell.
Henry Richmond kept his counsel.
‘Don’t you think you should see to your wife?’ Sidney asked.
‘It’s not me she needs. Besides, Amanda is with her; unless you’d like to go too. Not that you’d be much help . . .’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Her being a Roman Catholic.’
‘I don’t think that makes much difference in a situation like this.’
‘I think we should leave them to their own devices. Muir! Where’s the bloody port?’
Serena Stein withdrew with the doctor’s wife while the remaining men stayed at the table. Just after the women had left the room a plate was dropped.
‘FOR GOD’S SAKE!’ Sir Mark shouted but immediately relented on seeing that the culprit was Nancy Hayworth. ‘That’s all right, Rita, just clear it up.’
The conversation resumed, with more thoughts about shooting, estate management and the forthcoming balls, before the men finally rejoined the ladies in order to play a few rounds of bridge. Lady Kirby-Grey was ‘resting’ and Amanda tried not to look piqued in front of Henry Richmond. The row had left a stain on the proceedings, the resulting congenial atmosphere was unconvincing and the party broke up well before midnight.
Once they had retired to their room and exchanged a few eyebrow-raising observations on the course of the evening, Hildegard said that she was thirsty. She wasn’t sure how well she was going to sleep and wondered if there was any chance of a bedtime cup of cocoa. Sidney offered to find out.
As he descended the back stairs to the kitchen he saw Sir Mark leaning down in a distant doorway.
He heard a woman’s voice: ‘Get off me. I’ve told you. No hanky-panky. Someone will see.’
‘You know what I want.’
‘Then you have to bring me the money.’
It was Nancy Hayworth.
Sidney retreated quietly back up the stairs. Hildegard would have to survive without cocoa.
The next morning was Advent Sunday and, because the living at the local church of St Magnus the Martyr was vacant, Sidney had to sing for his supper. He preached on the subject of fragility and vulnerability, thinking not only of the Christ child but of Elizabeth, his hostess. He wanted to make sure that even Sir Mark understood what he was saying, and so he spoke slowly, without his customary friendliness, about how it was our responsibility to console those who mourn, support the weak and comfort the afflicted
Similar Books
