Page 23

Chapter 22

Cormac raised a questioning eyebrow at Bridget and, when she nodded back, he rapped his knuckle on the door to the tutor’s room.

‘Come in!’ came Mr Humphrey’s unfailingly cheerful voice, coloured by his gentle Scottish accent.

Cormac opened the door and allowed Bridget to enter first, before following after her. They found the tutor standing over the large table that dominated his room, an array of papers and books laid out in front of him. He beamed at them.

‘Mr McGovern, Lady Courcey, thank you very much for taking the time to meet with me. Please, please sit!’

As they sat at the table in two of the chairs usually occupied by his currently absent students, Cormac glanced down at the papers and spotted Jack’s name written in neat letters in the top right corner of several of the pages.

Mr Humphrey bounced on the balls of his feet. ‘I appreciate you coming here, so that I could show you these examples as part of our discussion.’

He gestured towards the table. Cormac tugged a sheet closer to him and identified it as the beginning of an essay in Jack’s handwriting on the qualities of a noble leader.

‘It is not necessary to consider Mr Carey’s eligibility,’ Mr Humphrey continued, ‘as he is past the age where it would be relevant, although I will say that I’m extremely pleased with his progress—he has a keen mathematical mind. Wee Master Angus, I’m afraid, has yet to demonstrate that he is capable of the concentration and discipline required for the broader educational path. Master Jack, however, is ready for that challenge, I believe.’

Next to Cormac, Bridget’s fingers tightened on the edge of her chair. ‘What is your recommendation, Mr Humphrey?’

The tutor took a seat at the top of the table and folded his hands on its surface. ‘It is my opinion that Jack should commence attendance at public school. It will expand his horizons in a way that is not possible in his current situation.’

Cormac flattened his palm over Jack’s essay. ‘What do you mean by that?’

‘I do not harbour any conceit about my professional abilities. My tutelage is satisfactory, to be sure, but it can only advance Jack to a certain point. You will see when you peruse his work here that he has grasped the fundamentals in many subjects such as philosophy, history and literature. However, a wider range of tutors with specialist knowledge in their individual fields of study would edify his mind to a far greater degree.’ Mr Humphrey paused. ‘In addition to this, I feel that a public school setting would promote another essential aspect of his education: his social development.’

A flash of concern crossed Bridget’s face. Cormac frowned, his shoulders tensing.

‘Please elaborate,’ he said in a measured tone.

Mr Humphrey’s expression grew more intent, his usual optimism giving way to an uncharacteristic sombreness. ‘Since his recent twelfth birthday, Jack is no longer quite a child and yet neither is he ready to become a man. He lives rather a sheltered life here at the Hall. Indeed, so does Angus, but I do not worry for his social skills—that laddie could charm a monk into forgetting his vow of silence. Jack, on the other hand, has a more retiring disposition and I regret to say that he is not flourishing in his brother’s shadow. It is my strong belief that he requires more space to grow.’

A ripple of apprehension ran down Cormac’s spine. He and Bridget had striven to create a safe haven for their children at Bewley Hall, but it sounded like this may have left Jack unprepared for the trials that lay beyond its walls. Did their son need the hard lessons that only the wider world could teach?

Bridget bit the tip of her tongue, her cheeks pale. ‘But is he not too gentle for school in that case? Wouldn’t he be a prime target for bullying?’

‘That’s why I would advise you to choose the school very carefully. In fact, I already have an institution in mind: Balfour School in Scotland.’

‘ Scotland ?’ Bridget yelped. ‘Good gracious, no, that is too far away.’

‘Is that not what would make it an appealing option from the perspective of Jack’s advancement? Besides, the continuing expansion of the railway renders travelling north much easier than it once was. The school is situated near the village of Carstairs, where a new station was recently built, making the journey more convenient than you might imagine.’

‘It’s still a substantial distance,’ said Cormac, fighting the urge to dismiss it just as swiftly as Bridget had. ‘What else leads you to recommend it?’

‘I used to teach there before I began private tutoring,’ Mr Humphrey said, smiling fondly. ‘I am acquainted with the headmaster, Mr Cameron, and deem him to be a very fair man. He would guarantee an environment that would nurture Jack but also draw him out of his shell.’

Cormac couldn’t quash the unease that burgeoned within him as he considered the reputation of these types of institutions, steeped in their supercilious traditions and notions of superiority. What if attending one planted seeds of doubt in Jack about his father’s humble beginnings? Thus far, Cormac and Bridget had succeeded in raising their boys to disregard such prejudices. Would public school undo that hard-won perspective?

With a grimace, Cormac pushed back his chair and rose, striding over to the window that overlooked the avenue at the front of the house. The ground outside lay bare without a trace of snow, in contrast to the landscape further north in Yorkshire where, according to Emily’s latest letter, there had been a recent flurry. Scotland was undoubtedly blanketed in it.

He chewed the inside of his cheek, contemplating the idea of sending Jack away to this Balfour School. At least Mr Humphrey had not suggested Eton, a place forever tarnished in Cormac’s mind by the fact that it could count both Garrett and Patrick among its past pupils – neither of them had emerged from it as shining examples of virtuous youth.

Then again, Jack’s nature was very different to Garrett’s and Patrick’s – he was pure-hearted, almost to a fault. Could that purity be his safeguard from corruption, or would it only make him more vulnerable? Furthermore, what message did it convey if Cormac and Bridget chose to keep him cooped up at Bewley Hall? Would they be protecting him, or would they be doing him a disservice not to let him spread his wings beyond the confines of their parental nest?

Cormac turned back to face Mr Humphrey. ‘We will need to talk with Jack before coming to any decision,’ he said firmly and Bridget gave an emphatic nod of agreement.

‘Aye, of course,’ said Mr Humphrey. ‘I wanted to broach the matter with you in the first instance to see if you might be amenable. Should Jack prove willing to go ahead with it after your discussion with him, I could write to Mr Cameron. It is already February, but he may be in a position to enrol Jack for the academic term commencing this September.’

‘Before we proceed further,’ Cormac said warily, ‘there’s something you ought to know about our personal situation, as it might influence how Jack would be perceived at the school.’

Bridget took a measured breath. ‘My husband, Lord Wyndham, is seeking a divorce from me.’

Mr Humphrey blinked. ‘I see. Well, that is…unexpected.’ He adjusted the papers on the table before him, clearly thrown.

‘Would it compromise our son’s suitability?’ Cormac asked, though he suspected the answer already, and wondered furthermore whether they were about to lose the services of the tutor altogether.

Mr Humphrey wavered, but only momentarily. ‘I won’t pretend that such matters wouldn’t draw notice,’ he said. ‘Still, as long as it didn’t disrupt Jack’s conduct or studies, I see no reason why it would affect his prospective place at Balfour. The school’s priority ought to be his potential and his progress, not…his family’s circumstances. I would make a strong case for him in my recommendation letter.’

As Bridget thanked the tutor for his solicitude, the muffled sound of hooves drew Cormac’s attention back to the window once more. A smartly dressed rider had just reached the top of the avenue and was swinging down from his mount as a stable hand came hurrying forwards. Cormac glanced over at Bridget.

‘Patrick’s here,’ he said.

They took their leave of Mr Humphrey, and a quarter of an hour later they were seated in the drawing room opposite Cormac’s nephew, whose nonchalant attitude seemed a little forced as he reclined back against the sofa. The letter he had sent the previous week announcing his return to England and his intention to visit Bedfordshire had left them none the wiser as to how he had been faring since his fiery confrontation with Garrett, and Cormac still could not tell as he surveyed the young man’s guarded hazel eyes.

‘Did you spend the Christmas season at Ashbrook Lodge?’ he asked.

Patrick nodded.

‘That must have been quite a solitary experience,’ Bridget said, her head tilted with sympathy.

Patrick shrugged. ‘It didn’t bother me. I meant to uncork a ’34 Bordeaux with Blanchard on Christmas Eve, but we became sidetracked trying to work out which crops would be best to plant in the coming year to reduce the estate’s reliance on the potato.’ He raised his eyebrows at Cormac. ‘Would you have any recommendations in that regard?’

It took an effort for Cormac not to raise his eyebrows in return. ‘I believe Oakleigh has planted turnips and barley to good effect. Are you familiar with the concept of crop rotation?’

‘Yes. We’ve been going around the estate speaking to the tenants about it. It will take some persuasion to get them to commit to it, though.’

‘Because they don’t trust that it will be successful?’ asked Bridget.

‘Because they don’t trust me ,’ he replied.

She cringed. ‘Oh.’

His mouth twisted wryly. ‘Who can blame them? My father has been an absentee landlord on the estate for over twenty years. Odds are they don’t expect me to stick around for long either. Still, at least no one has tried to hang me yet.’

An awkward silence fell.

After a beat, Cormac said, ‘Have you been in contact with your father lately?’

Patrick shifted on the sofa. ‘I have. He came back to Ashbrook Lodge after his visit to Oakleigh and informed me of the conversation that had taken place. I approve of the objective he has chosen to demonstrate selflessness in his character, and so I’ve allowed the lines of communication to reopen between us.’ He hesitated. ‘This brings me to the reason for my presence here at Bewley Hall. Upon arriving in London last week, I went to Berkeley Square, where my father had some unwelcome tidings to impart. He has initiated his enquiries into the divorce proceedings but has encountered some impediments that he’s reluctant to relay. He asked me to call upon you, thinking that the news would be better received from me in person than from him by letter.’

A heavy weight settled in Cormac’s gut. Was their tentative hope to be extinguished so soon? They’d had scarcely two months to enjoy the prospect of this divorce.

But then Patrick said, ‘He still believes it’s possible to accomplish it. However, there are certain steps involved which would be…highly unpalatable. You will need to decide whether you are willing to become embroiled in them.’

He directed this at Bridget and she swallowed audibly. ‘What steps?’ she asked in a quiet voice.

Patrick adjusted his position on the sofa again, crossing his legs and uncrossing them before leaning forwards and clearing his throat. ‘The process will begin in the ecclesiastical courts. If a legal separation is granted, my father can then petition the House of Lords to pass a private act of divorce. There will be much debate of the evidence before it can be approved. I’m sorry to say that a major part of that evidence’ – he winced, looking genuinely contrite – ‘is a public statement from you declaring your adultery.’

Cormac watched the colour drain from Bridget’s countenance. ‘I-is it not sufficient for him to accuse me of it?’ she said falteringly. ‘Surely they would deem a man’s word to be worth more than a woman’s.’

‘No doubt they would,’ replied Patrick. ‘But it wouldn’t be enough to satisfy them. They will want to see you humiliated.’

Bridget turned to Cormac with anguish churning in her eyes and his heart clenched at her palpable distress.

‘Couldn’t I do it on her behalf?’ he demanded of Patrick. ‘I’m a guilty party in this too.’

Patrick shook his head ruefully. ‘My father’s sources have told him that Lady Courcey is the one who must be disgraced.’

Cormac could picture the peers in the House of Lords salivating at the idea of bringing a woman to her knees for daring to break free from the shackles of a loveless marriage. His bile rose.

‘It’s out of the question,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘They’re not entitled to treat her with such contempt. Do they not see that their malice strips them of any claim to virtue themselves? Our sins are no greater than theirs.’

Patrick rubbed the back of his neck. ‘You certainly can refuse to do it, so long as you understand that denying them means that they will not grant the divorce.’

A tiny whimper escaped Bridget’s lips. ‘But it was finally within our grasp for the first time. We can’t relinquish this chance.’

She reached out compulsively to grasp Cormac’s arm. He put his hand over hers, hating the desperate feeling of helplessness that hovered between them.

‘It isn’t fair,’ Patrick muttered. ‘They’re forcing you to decide which holds more value to you: your reputation or your freedom.’

Bridget’s chin lifted a fraction. ‘We already know which of those is more important.’ She squeezed Cormac’s arm even tighter. ‘Since when have we ever cared what society thinks of us?’

‘Bear in mind that this would be very different,’ Patrick cautioned. ‘Up to now, you’ve managed to get by on a relatively minimal level of notoriety. This scandal, however, would be a total annihilation of your anonymity. The papers would revel in publishing every minute detail of the affair. People who may have supported you in the past would not be able to countenance such flagrant disregard of the established rules. Many would feel that you ought to have borne the repercussions of your mistakes, and they would look down on you for desiring otherwise. You would likely end up isolating yourselves to an enormous degree.’

Cormac’s mind reeled at this merciless depiction of their future. Bridget, on the other hand, seemed emboldened by it. ‘Let them judge us how they wish,’ she said, squaring her shoulders. ‘Their opinions do not signify in the slightest.’

Patrick blinked. ‘I admire your fortitude, my lady,’ he said, inclining his head. ‘But please remember that it is not merely a matter of reputation. There are other material concerns at stake. For instance, you would forfeit all right to any property you brought to the marriage.’

Although Bridget quailed at this declaration, Cormac sought out the logic behind it.

‘Was that not already the case?’ he said. ‘Oakleigh legally became Garrett’s when they wed.’

‘True, but the lady has been its guardian for many years. The divorce would wholly rescind that privilege. Having said that…’ Patrick trailed away, his expression turning pensive.

‘Yes?’ Cormac prompted.

‘Perhaps I’m in a position to prevail upon my father in that regard. I could press him to make the ownership of Oakleigh a part of the divorce settlement, conferring it irrevocably upon Lady Courcey.’

This time, Cormac did raise his eyebrows. ‘Do you believe you hold that much power over him?’

‘I believe he has a deep urge to show that he is capable of reform,’ said Patrick.

Bridget gulped. ‘I would grieve the loss of Oakleigh far more than the loss of society’s esteem. If you could exercise any influence in this respect, Pat, I would be so grateful. At least the Courcey title itself will pass to Emily regardless, thanks to the entailment on the estate.’

‘Leave it with me for now.’ Patrick clasped his palms together. ‘Speaking of your daughter, her own marital state would spare her from some of the consequences in all this. As your only legitimate offspring, she could have become enmeshed in the proceedings, given that she has not yet reached the age of majority. But her marriage last year removed her from my father’s lawful control and placed her under her husband’s authority instead, meaning your divorce would actually have no legal implications for her. Her reputation, however, wouldn’t be so secure. She would be unavoidably tainted by the scandal. Your sons, too.’

Cormac felt queasy. They had only just begun to consider the idea of sending Jack away to school. What kind of damage could his parents’ very public disgrace do to his social development? Would it be akin to throwing him into a lion’s den?

With the accumulation of so many disadvantages, Cormac wondered unhappily whether there were enough benefits to outweigh them. What price were they prepared to pay for Bridget’s freedom and the chance to marry at last? Were there other costs which had not yet even occurred to them?

He let out a long exhalation of breath. Beside him, Bridget’s shoulders slumped.

Patrick grimaced. ‘I’m not trying to dissuade you from this path,’ he said apologetically. ‘On the contrary, I wholly believe my father ought to remove the sword of Damocles he has left hanging over your heads for so long. But it would be remiss of me not to relay his warnings about the extent of its impact.’

‘We appreciate your candour,’ Bridget said with a feeble smile. ‘And we realise this requires further careful deliberation on our part.’ She cast an anxious sideways glance at Cormac. ‘Especially in relation to Jack.’

Patrick’s forehead creased. ‘Why especially him?’

‘His tutor has recommended that we send him away to school,’ she replied uneasily.

Patrick looked horrified. ‘You’re not serious? With this scandal about to break? He would be crucified at Eton.’

‘Not Eton,’ Cormac said. ‘A school in Scotland.’

‘Ah.’ Patrick’s expression cleared. ‘That’s different. In fact, it makes much more sense. You’d be placing him as far away from the furore as possible. Yes, good thinking.’

Cormac sensed a tremor of surprise run through Bridget as Scotland’s remoteness suddenly turned from a blow into a blessing. He tilted his head at his nephew.

‘How soon do you need to convey our answer to your father?’ he asked.

Patrick sat back, seeming a bit more relaxed now that his troublesome task had been executed. ‘Not immediately. I do intend to return to London and then to Ashbrook Lodge after that for the spring planting of the crops, but I can spare a few days if circumstances require it.’ His casual manner couldn’t quite conceal the hopeful flicker in his gaze.

Cormac restrained a twitch in his mouth as he said, ‘You’re very welcome to stay here, if that’s agreeable to you?’

‘Thank you, Uncle, I’m amenable to that.’