Page 37

Chapter 36

As Ashbrook Lodge came into view, Rory’s chief thought was that if this was what passed for a ‘small’ estate then he didn’t understand the meaning of the word. To be fair, it didn’t match the size of Bewley Hall, or even Oakleigh, and yet it still boasted three large storeys with bow windows on both the ground and middle levels, while a pair of stout columns flanked the front door, giving the place a stately air.

He and Cormac reined in their horses before the house as the two carriages rolled to a stop behind them. They had arranged to make this visit on their way down to Carlow upon the request of Patrick, which was such a rare invitation that the family had all agreed it could not be declined. It also proved to be a welcome break in their journey, since the June heat had only intensified from the morning to the afternoon, turning the railway carriage into a stifling box of dead air – opening the windows had admitted more dust than breeze, leaving them all thankful to disembark at Kildare railway station.

Dismounting from his horse, Rory approached the nearest carriage as its door swung out.

‘Thank you, Rory,’ Bridget said as he helped her and Emily to descend.

‘You’re welcome, Bridget,’ he answered and she gave him an affectionate smile. Once he started calling Cormac by his first name, addressing his mother-in-law as Bridget had become easier too.

Jack and Gus jumped down after them, looking around eagerly. Alighting from his own mount, Cormac assisted Polly and Jennie from the other carriage, while Mr Varley followed with an audible creak of his spine as he straightened.

The front door of Ashbrook Lodge opened and Patrick emerged. If Rory didn’t know better, he would have said the fellow seemed nervous in the way he tugged at the cuffs of his coat. His gaze slid restlessly from his guests to the corner of the house and eased when a pair of stable hands came trotting into sight.

‘Thanks, chaps,’ he called and they gave him deferential nods before reaching for the reins of Rory’s and Cormac’s horses. As they led the animals away, he came forwards to greet the family. ‘It’s my pleasure to receive you here,’ he said. Although his words were somewhat stilted, he bowed with exemplary courtesy.

Cormac shook his nephew’s hand, while Bridget smiled and said, ‘Thank you for inviting us.’

‘Do you have a billiard table here, Pat?’ Gus asked, almost bursting with enthusiasm beneath his tricorne. ‘I’ve been practising with Da!’

‘Is that so?’ Patrick said, the corner of his mouth lifting. ‘It sounds like I might have a formidable opponent on my hands. We’d better make time for a game later.’

Gus’s face flooded with a blend of excitement and determination.

Patrick turned back to the rest of them. ‘Would you care for some refreshment? Given the fine weather, I took the liberty of arranging it in an outdoor setting.’

‘That sounds delightful,’ Bridget answered on everyone’s behalf, her brows drawing together with curiosity. She flicked her glance to the side where Polly, Jennie and Mr Varley stood waiting unobtrusively.

‘All are welcome,’ Patrick said, acknowledging the servants with a polite dip of his head. ‘We don’t stand on ceremony at Ashbrook. My agent, Blanchard, will likely join us too. There are no precedents to abide by, seeing as you’re the first guests I’ve entertained here.’

As the stable hands returned to take care of the carriage horses, Patrick led the way around the other corner of the house and the rest of them followed, family and servants alike, Gus jogging to the front of the group so he could apprise Patrick of every detail relating to the solved mystery of the flickering light. Walking along, Rory noted the tidy lawn at the side of the house that sloped down to a well-maintained stone wall and, beyond that, an expanse of barley fields. This didn’t appear to be the province of a man squandering his inheritance.

When they reached the grounds at the rear of the house, Patrick guided them towards a wooden arbour, where two maids were laying out jugs and glasses on a linen-covered table. The frame of the arbour was covered in flowering honeysuckle; stepping beneath its fragrant shade was a pleasant relief. The maids bobbed curtseys to Patrick and, at his appreciative nod, they slipped away towards the house.

‘I can personally vouch for this claret cup,’ he said, gesturing to the table. The jugs contained a deep red wine, chilled with ice and speckled with slices of citrus and some sort of greenery that Rory didn’t recognise. ‘It’s a splendid thirst-quencher. By the by, that jug to the side has been diluted with extra soda water for our younger company.’

Cormac chuckled and reached for the jug in question to pour glasses for Jack and Gus, who looked crestfallen but resigned. Rory speculated that there was a time when their cousin would have actively encouraged them to drink the stronger beverage, and he wondered when that time had passed.

Bridget set about pouring everyone else’s drinks; the iced liquid fizzed and clinked as it flowed into each glass. Polly and Jennie flushed at being served by their mistress, while Mr Varley located a bench on the far side of the table and sank onto it with a weary sigh. Rory sipped from his glass and relished the sensation of the cool claret running down his parched throat. Next to him, Emily took a deeper gulp – she had been delicate ever since the ship, but now the drink brought some colour back into her wan cheeks.

Cormac raised his glass to his nephew. ‘Thank you for your hospitality. May we look forward to returning the same next month?’

Patrick nodded. ‘Yes. I’m hoping to travel down two days before the wedding.’

Bridget beamed. ‘That’s marvellous.’ After a slight hesitation, she said, ‘Have you been in touch with your father lately?’

Patrick stared meditatively into his drink. ‘We’ve maintained regular correspondence since the beginning of the year. I’m keeping him informed of estate developments here at Ashbrook…and I recently communicated that he will not be refused at the door the next time he chooses to visit.’

Patrick looked up, and Rory thought he discerned a trace of reluctant pride in his eyes.

‘I’ve regained a measure of faith in my father,’ he admitted. ‘It seems he does possess the capacity to be selfless, after all. He even said in his last letter that he wishes you well, my lady.’ Patrick gave an amused grunt. ‘Although I don’t expect his magnanimity will extend as far as him attending your nuptials.’

Rory highly doubted whether Bridget and Cormac had even issued an invitation to Garrett, but then their sense of honour had always been a peculiar thing, obliging them to act with fairness even towards those who had wronged them. If they had sent word to London, surely it would only have been out of duty rather than any real expectation that Garrett would appear.

‘I’m glad you are on good terms with him again,’ Bridget said sincerely. ‘And also that you’re evidently making a success of your time here.’

Patrick shrugged self-consciously. ‘Without a pedigree to rely on, I figured I’d better make myself useful in other ways.’

Rory felt Emily tense at his side. However, before the moment became awkward, Patrick pivoted smoothly and waved to an approaching figure.

‘There’s Blanchard now.’

The arrival of the land agent, a stout man with a shrewd expression, prompted a round of introductions, followed by a discussion regarding the condition of the estate. When Cormac enquired about their use of crop rotation, Blanchard grew quite animated.

‘Turnips and barley proved to be sound choices,’ he declared. ‘The tenants weren’t convinced at first, although after last season’s yield they’re not so quick to grumble anymore. Another healthy harvest might make believers of them yet.’

‘We even took a gamble on planting a small potato crop this year,’ Patrick added. ‘It’s too early to say whether the blight will return later in the summer, but for now we are cautiously optimistic.’

By the time the jugs were emptied, a genuinely convivial atmosphere had settled over the arbour. Cormac, Rory and Patrick had all unbuttoned their coats and loosened their cravats, while Bridget idly fanned herself with a folded napkin. Emily and Jennie were smiling and blinking languidly, the claret apparently having had a strong effect on them both. Mr Varley’s chin had dropped onto his chest and he was snoozing; Polly delicately eased his glass from his slackened grip and placed it back on the table. At the edge of the arbour, Jack and Gus were sprawled on the grass, tossing pebbles at a mark on the ground.

‘Can we play billiards soon?’ Gus asked hopefully.

Patrick checked his pocket watch. ‘It’s nearly time to get ready for dinner. But if you can exercise just a little more patience, we’ll have a game afterwards. What do you say?’

‘I’ll eat quickly so we can start sooner!’ Gus declared, earning a few quiet chuckles around the group at the unlikely notion of him abandoning the dinner table early.

This exchange was enough to stir everyone from their drowsy contentment. Polly gave Mr Varley’s shoulder a gentle tug and he startled awake with a sheepish expression. In a leisurely trickle, they all began to leave the arbour, dispersing towards the house where the two maids emerged promptly to show them to their rooms.

Patrick cleared his throat. ‘Rory, could I have a quick word?’

Surprised, Rory cast a glance after Emily, who had gone on ahead, leaning sleepily on her mother’s arm. With a hesitant nod, he held back. Cormac and Jack were the last to step out into the sunshine; Cormac acknowledged Rory and Patrick with a brief tilt of his head before steering Jack after the others.

Patrick fidgeted with the items on the table, lining up the empty glasses and dropping an errant lemon slice back into one of the jugs. Rory watched him with a frown.

‘What d’you want to talk about?’ he asked, his tone on the edge of impatience.

Patrick stepped away from the table. ‘Ah. Yes.’ He stuck his finger inside his cravat and loosened it even further. ‘There’s something I wanted to mention.’ He cleared his throat again, his discomfort palpable.

‘Which is?’ Rory prompted.

Patrick pressed his lips together. ‘Look, I won’t blame you if you decide to give me a box, and I won’t stop you if you try.’

Dipping his hand into his pocket, he withdrew a folded piece of paper and held it out. Rory took it, his brows furrowed. Before he could unfold it, Patrick spoke again.

‘It’s the name and address of a doctor. He wasn’t easy to find—it’s not a branch of medicine that’s commonly studied. But this fellow has gained a reputation for his particular interest in the area.’ Patrick paused, noting Rory’s blank face. Wincing, he said, ‘His practice centres on the ailments and other impediments that may hinder a family’s natural increase.’

Rory’s mouth fell open.

‘I’m aware that it’s a very sensitive matter,’ Patrick hurried on, ‘and I have no desire to intrude on this private affair between you and my cousin. However, when we last spoke of it, I got the impression that you had resigned yourself to the situation. And I thought it worth encouraging you not to give up hope yet.’

Rory stared at him in dumbfounded silence.

‘Right, go ahead,’ Patrick muttered, letting his arms fall to his sides and offering his chin. ‘I deserve it.’

Rory swallowed. ‘I’m not going to hit you.’ He clutched the paper tightly as if it might blow away, even though there wasn’t a breath of wind on this hot June day. ‘I think a handshake might be more in order.’

Patrick eyed him warily.

‘This is—’ Rory stopped. He didn’t know what to say. ‘’Tis really unexpected.’

Patrick rubbed the back of his neck. ‘I just wanted to make up for…past transgressions. You don’t have to tell Emily where you got the information, if you decide to use it.’

Rory nodded. ‘Thanks, Pat. Thanks a lot.’

Patrick tossed his head. ‘Consider it my last good deed of the day. I fully intend to trounce you on the billiard table later.’