Page 45 of The Gathering Storm (Morland Dynasty #36)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The schools inspector, Frank Clarke, was slightly apologetic.

His grandmother had been a maid at Morland Place, where she had received such a good grounding that she had made a good marriage, and his grandfather had been educated at St Edmund’s School, a free school founded by the Morlands, enabling him to better himself.

So where he might have been stern, he treated Polly with something close to deference.

It didn’t stop him pointing out, however, that universal education was not just free in England, it was compulsory.

‘Your son must go to school, ma’am,’ he said. ‘That is the law. And I’m afraid if you don’t comply there will be a court order and a serious fine.’

Polly frowned. ‘I’m not keeping him out of school – it’s just that I hadn’t thought about it. Our boys have usually been educated at home. I know my father was, and my brother.’

Clarke nodded encouragingly. ‘There is no reason that Alexander should not be, as long as proper provision is made. There must be regular hours, and a lesson plan must be approved. And there will, of course, be inspection from time to time to see that he is progressing. You will be engaging a tutor, I suppose?’

‘Um,’ said Polly. ‘Is that necessary?’ It wasn’t that she didn’t want to, it was that she hadn’t time. And where did you even start looking for a live-in tutor, these days?

‘The education department must be satisfied that your son is receiving as good an education as he would receive at school.’ He studied her expression, clearly trying to fathom her thoughts.

‘If you haven’t an arrangement in place, Mrs Morland, might I suggest it would be easier all round if you sent him to school?

I dare say he would enjoy it, you know. Boys like to be with other boys.

He would probably be happier at school than all alone in the schoolroom here and no-one to play with. ’

‘Oh, very well. I expect you’re right,’ Polly said. ‘I’ll see to it.’

‘Straight away, ma’am,’ Clarke said, managing a little strictness. ‘He must be in school on Monday morning.’

Polly didn’t want to part with her boy. She would miss having him around, and she wondered how he would react to the confinement, when he was used to scrambling about the country on his pony, or going off on expeditions on foot with the dogs.

But Clarke was right: he ought to have other boys his own age to play with.

At least there would be no difficulty in finding him a school – St Edmund’s was practically Morland property.

She was about to go and find Alec to break the news to him, when John Burton came in, having been out at Eastfield Farm that morning to look at a roof repair. He saw her thoughtful frown and said, ‘Is something the matter?’

‘The school inspector was here. I have to send Alec to school.’

‘Ah. Yes, of course, it is past time. You don’t want him getting behind the other boys, do you?’

‘I hope they don’t fill his mind with rubbish.’

‘It’s a very good school,’ Burton said.

‘But he needs to learn about the estate.’

‘He needs schooling too. It will make him a better Master.’

‘I don’t know about that. I went to school, and I don’t think it did me any good at all. I don’t remember a single thing I learned.’

‘It was all over in twenty minutes,’ Kit said to Emma, as they drove down the A1 for a shooting weekend in Bedfordshire.

‘She was very nervous going in, but Birkett, her lawyer, simply asked her questions to which she had to reply, “Yes,” so she couldn’t go wrong.

She said the beastly judge had a head cold, and spent the whole time blowing his nose and coughing.

There was one moment when he just sat and glared at Birkett without saying anything, and she was sure he was going to deny her the decree.

But he was just waiting for a sneeze to arrive.

Anyway, he awarded the nisi. The police and detectives bundled her out of the back door away from the press, and she drove straight back to London.

She’s at Cumberland Terrace now, sorting out her goods and chattels.

’ He gave a snort of laughter. ‘As well as all the stuff from Bryanston Court, HM apparently had a whole vanload of choice pieces from Buckingham Palace delivered – furniture, mirrors, a lot of very valuable silver, even some pictures. And she’d hardly got her furs off when he turned up with cold pheasant sandwiches and even colder champagne.

Along with a gigantic emerald and platinum congratulations-darling-you’re-nearly-divorced ring. ’

‘If she goes about sporting what looks like an engagement ring and the King’s Proctor gets to hear about it, there goes her divorce,’ said Emma.

‘Probably better all round if he did block it. I met Bob Boothby in Regent Street, and he said he’d heard that when Baldwin had his meeting with HM, he urged him to call off the divorce, and the King said he couldn’t possibly interfere in a private decision of Mrs Simpson’s, which he had nothing whatever to do with.

Which apparently made Baldwin blink and ask for a whisky-and-soda. ’

‘Well, nearly everyone thinks they are lovers,’ Emma said, with a shrug.

‘And then our gallant PM asked if it was absolutely necessary to marry Mrs S, and hinted delicately that certain things are customarily allowed to a monarch that are not allowed to the ordinary man.’

‘Brave indeed.’

‘And HM pretended to look shocked and said there was no question of that, that Mrs S was a lady, and he was going to marry her.’

‘Isn’t there any way to stop him? What about the Royal Marriages Act?’

‘No good. It only says that royal marriages must be approved by the monarch. But for a king to marry against the advice of his government would be unconstitutional. I was talking about that with Boothby. He said if the Cabinet told him he couldn’t marry Wally and he persisted, the entire government would resign. ’

Emma shook her head. ‘But you know what he’s like – opposition just makes him more stubborn. And if the government resigned, what then?’

‘There’d be a general election, with the King’s Matter as the chief issue. That would convulse the country and damage our reputation abroad. Boothby said he’d heard that Baldwin is thinking of appealing to Wally, begging her to go abroad.’

‘But David’d cut his throat. Or follow her,’ said Emma.

‘It’s the next left,’ Kit said, and waited until she’d made the turn before he went on, ‘I don’t believe he’d really kill himself. He’s too self-absorbed. No, I’m afraid Wally’s got him for life, poor thing.’

‘Can’t you persuade her to go away? She listens to you. If she went back to America and didn’t tell him where she was going, he couldn’t follow her, could he?’

‘I could try. But she’s almost as stubborn in her way as he is.

And, of course, she still doesn’t really understand the British Constitution and the limits on monarchy.

As long as he keeps telling her it will be all right in the end, she’s inclined to believe him because, after all, a king can do anything he likes, can’t he?

And then she’d be queen, and even with David attached that must be a dazzling prospect. ’

‘I’m afraid you’re right,’ Emma said. ‘Oh dear, let’s forget about it for now, and concentrate on enjoying the weekend. Look, is that the other car up ahead? They’ve made good time.’

The servants, children and dogs had gone on ahead in a separate motor. One of the nice things about their hosts this weekend was that they had young children and had extended the invitation to the two girls as well. It made it comfortably like home.

Polly was out for a ride with Jessie. ‘That’s a nice-looking youngster,’ she said.

Jessie leaned forward and ran a hand up an ear.

‘Yes, I like a horse with long ears. They’re always good-tempered.

He’s for Lady Grey. He’s ready now, but she wants me to show him to hounds a few times before she takes him.

’ She glanced across at Zephyr. ‘You ought to start bringing on a new hunter. How old is Zephyr now?’

‘Twelve,’ said Polly. ‘We’ve a few more good years together.’

‘Yes, but a second horse would allow you to stay out longer.’

Polly smiled. ‘You wouldn’t happen to have a youngster on your hands, by any chance?’

‘As a matter of fact, I’ve a couple of very nice three-year-olds. Come over and have a look some time,’ Jessie said, and changed the subject. ‘How is the young master taking to school?’

‘There was no more resistance once I said he could ride to school. I believe he’s the envy of his class. But I think he’s enjoying being with other boys. I do miss him, though.’

‘At least he comes home every afternoon. My darling Thomas is all the way over in Preston, and only visits one weekend in four.’

‘What’s the name of the college, again?’

‘Myerscough. It’s something of a disgrace that Yorkshire doesn’t have its own agricultural college, and he has to go all the way to Lancashire. But Bertie’s pretty upset that he wants to go to agricultural college at all, instead of learning at his father’s feet.’

‘I can see that would dent his pride,’ said Polly.

‘Thomas pointed out that there’s lots of new scientific advances, these days, that he ought to know about. He can be terribly tactful for an eighteen-year-old.’

‘At least he wants to follow in his father’s footsteps,’ said Polly. ’It must be hard to build up a business and find your son wants to do something else entirely.’

‘I told him that, but he misses having Tom around. Then there’s Catherine, worrying about her coming-out ball. Afraid no-one will ask her to dance.’

‘I’ll have a word with James, tell him if there’s any lull to throw himself into the breach.’

‘That should do it. He’s handsome and unmarried, and all the local females look at him with cinema eyes.’

‘Cinema eyes?’

‘You know – the way the female star looks at the male star.’ She did an imitation.