I make myself plain?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Tom said, a little subdued.
‘But master!’
‘Do I make myself clear!’
‘Yes, master,’ George said sullenly.
‘Good,’ I said. ‘Now, I came back for some music. And if there’s any more argument, I’m going to be late for a rehearsal.’
‘Sir,’ Tom said again, and retreated to the back of the house. George lingered, muttering.
‘I’m adamant, George,’ I said. ‘These arguments must end.’
‘But master!’
I could hear the hostility in his voice. The spirit was turning more and more green; I sighed inwardly. ‘I appreciate your concern for Mrs Patterson, George, more than I can say—’
‘Really, master?’ The green faded; he sounded gratified.
‘But you must moderate your behaviour to Tom. After all, there are certain things you cannot—’ This required some delicacy; no spirit likes to be reminded they’re no longer as active as they once were. ‘Tom’s here to make Mrs Patterson’s life comfortable, to bring her food and drink, and all the other trifles she needs. He can make her life so much easier.’
‘Yes, master.’ Dear God, now he sounded worryingly depressed, and I was getting later and later for my rehearsal with Nightingale.
‘I rely upon you to make sure everything runs smoothly, George.’
‘That’s what I’m trying to do, master!’
‘Yes, I understand that. But don’t forget that other people can do their bit too.’
‘Yes, master. But—’
‘And you want Mrs Patterson to be happy, don’t you?’
‘Yes, master, but—’
‘Exactly,’ I said, and fled for the library.
My music sat in half a dozen piles on the floor behind the harpsichord. I thought I knew exactly the location of the copies I needed but I did not; after ten minutes of hunting, I finally conceded that Esther’s idea of new bookcases had considerable merit. Only at the last minute, just as I was leaving, did I remember Hugh’s note and retrieve it from my pocket. If it was another glowing encomium of London’s virtues, I’d leave it until I was in a better temper.
It was not. The note was addressed from Westgate.
Charles [Hugh had written] For God’s sake come round and console me. And bring some strong brandy .
Hugh was back from London? But he’d only been gone three weeks; what was the point in braving the appalling roads for so short a visit? And why did he need consoling? It sounded very much like a disastrous love affair, and I wasn’t in the mood for lovelorn descriptions of buxom beauties. For some reason, Hugh’s always tempted by redheads, and the more vulgar the better.
He’d have to wait. The Assembly Rooms were only a few doors down from Hugh’s lodgings; I could easily walk up there after the rehearsal. I heaved up the music, dashed out of the house – and ran straight into the girl, Kate.
She was lounging against the railings of the gardens at the centre of the square, apparently enjoying a patch of sunshine. She danced across to meet me. ‘Here, did you know there’s a drunken spirit in those gardens?’
‘Yes,’ I said shortly.
‘I don’t think he was respectable,’ she said. ‘You should have heard what he wanted me to do!’
I strode on, trying to outpace her. The sun was breaking through the clouds, drying the thin patina of dampness on the street. Midges bobbed around me. I batted them away irritably.
‘Not going to get rid of me,’ she sang. ‘I ain’t giving up.’
‘And I’m not giving in ,’ I retorted.
I reached the Assembly Rooms only a minute or two late. The Steward of the Rooms was not there but he’d left the harpsichord key on its usual hook. I snatched it up and started up the long flights of stairs; the concert room is on the second floor. Kate was still at my heels.
‘Here,’ she said admiringly, looking at the decorations, ‘this is canny. All this gold stuff.’ She fingered velvet curtains at the landing windows. ‘I like these. I’m going to have stuff like
‘Yes, sir,’ Tom said, a little subdued.
‘But master!’
‘Do I make myself clear!’
‘Yes, master,’ George said sullenly.
‘Good,’ I said. ‘Now, I came back for some music. And if there’s any more argument, I’m going to be late for a rehearsal.’
‘Sir,’ Tom said again, and retreated to the back of the house. George lingered, muttering.
‘I’m adamant, George,’ I said. ‘These arguments must end.’
‘But master!’
I could hear the hostility in his voice. The spirit was turning more and more green; I sighed inwardly. ‘I appreciate your concern for Mrs Patterson, George, more than I can say—’
‘Really, master?’ The green faded; he sounded gratified.
‘But you must moderate your behaviour to Tom. After all, there are certain things you cannot—’ This required some delicacy; no spirit likes to be reminded they’re no longer as active as they once were. ‘Tom’s here to make Mrs Patterson’s life comfortable, to bring her food and drink, and all the other trifles she needs. He can make her life so much easier.’
‘Yes, master.’ Dear God, now he sounded worryingly depressed, and I was getting later and later for my rehearsal with Nightingale.
‘I rely upon you to make sure everything runs smoothly, George.’
‘That’s what I’m trying to do, master!’
‘Yes, I understand that. But don’t forget that other people can do their bit too.’
‘Yes, master. But—’
‘And you want Mrs Patterson to be happy, don’t you?’
‘Yes, master, but—’
‘Exactly,’ I said, and fled for the library.
My music sat in half a dozen piles on the floor behind the harpsichord. I thought I knew exactly the location of the copies I needed but I did not; after ten minutes of hunting, I finally conceded that Esther’s idea of new bookcases had considerable merit. Only at the last minute, just as I was leaving, did I remember Hugh’s note and retrieve it from my pocket. If it was another glowing encomium of London’s virtues, I’d leave it until I was in a better temper.
It was not. The note was addressed from Westgate.
Charles [Hugh had written] For God’s sake come round and console me. And bring some strong brandy .
Hugh was back from London? But he’d only been gone three weeks; what was the point in braving the appalling roads for so short a visit? And why did he need consoling? It sounded very much like a disastrous love affair, and I wasn’t in the mood for lovelorn descriptions of buxom beauties. For some reason, Hugh’s always tempted by redheads, and the more vulgar the better.
He’d have to wait. The Assembly Rooms were only a few doors down from Hugh’s lodgings; I could easily walk up there after the rehearsal. I heaved up the music, dashed out of the house – and ran straight into the girl, Kate.
She was lounging against the railings of the gardens at the centre of the square, apparently enjoying a patch of sunshine. She danced across to meet me. ‘Here, did you know there’s a drunken spirit in those gardens?’
‘Yes,’ I said shortly.
‘I don’t think he was respectable,’ she said. ‘You should have heard what he wanted me to do!’
I strode on, trying to outpace her. The sun was breaking through the clouds, drying the thin patina of dampness on the street. Midges bobbed around me. I batted them away irritably.
‘Not going to get rid of me,’ she sang. ‘I ain’t giving up.’
‘And I’m not giving in ,’ I retorted.
I reached the Assembly Rooms only a minute or two late. The Steward of the Rooms was not there but he’d left the harpsichord key on its usual hook. I snatched it up and started up the long flights of stairs; the concert room is on the second floor. Kate was still at my heels.
‘Here,’ she said admiringly, looking at the decorations, ‘this is canny. All this gold stuff.’ She fingered velvet curtains at the landing windows. ‘I like these. I’m going to have stuff like
Similar Books
