CHAPTER FOUR

On the previous evening, Mrs Thompson had dined with the housekeeper in her private parlour and, according to Ruth whilst dressing Anna’s hair, was taking her breakfast in the kitchen with the other servants. So Anna went downstairs alone, was directed to the room where they’d dined last night … and found it occupied by his lordship’s sister and mother.

Rebecca bade her a cheerful good morning and told her to help herself from the sideboard. The dowager viscountess looked her over from head to foot and said nothing. Scowling at her mother behind Anna’s back and in a tone clearly conveying the message Don’t be rude!, Rebecca said, ‘This is Miss Hawthorne, Mama.’

‘Of course. Who else would she be?’ And, as Anna took her seat, ‘So … you are the young woman who will be affixing price tickets to my scent bottles, are you?’

Your scent bottles? thought Anna. Oh .

‘Not exactly, my lady. Mrs Thompson and I will merely examine the pieces – ’

‘Examine them for what?’

‘Any imperfections or – ’

‘You mean damage, don’t you?’

‘Well, yes. But – ’

‘You won’t find any,’ said her ladyship. And with the satisfied air of one who knows she has had the last word, turned back to her coddled egg.

Anna sipped her tea and nibbled a slice of toast she didn’t really want.

Groaning inwardly, Rebecca wondered if she was destined for two days or more of playing the peace-maker. Wishing she could simply get up and walk out, she said, ‘Daniel had the large dining-table fully extended and the pieces all laid out for you in readiness. Don’t worry – one of us was there the whole time to ensure every care was taken.’

‘Thank you. That all sounds very suitable,’ replied Anna politely.

‘And if there is anything else you need, please don’t hesitate to ask.’

‘I won’t, though there shouldn’t be anything.’ She hesitated and then, because the girl was obviously trying to ease the tension in the air, added, ‘We brought all the necessary information regarding the original purchases with us to help determine current value. And we’ll be wearing gloves to handle the pieces, as is standard procedure.’

‘How long do you expect it to take?’ asked the dowager.

As long as necessary , Anna thought but said, ‘No more than two days, I hope. We won’t inconvenience you any longer than we must, ma’am. And to that end, I should go and make a start.’

‘Of course,’ murmured Rebecca. Once again, her mother said nothing.

The household’s only footman showed Anna to the dining parlour where Sarah Thompson had already begun ticking off pieces against Mr Lowe’s lists. Anna, by contrast, stopped dead three steps into the room and, taking in the array in front of her, said faintly, ‘Good God. This is … actually, I’m not sure there’s a word for it.’

‘That’s exactly what I thought, ma’am. I mean, we knew how many there were but that doesn’t prepare you for seeing all of them together like this, does it?’

‘No. No, it doesn’t.’

Anna walked slowly towards and then along the table. One hundred and four scent bottles … every one of them different, every one of them an example of imagination and exquisite workmanship and each with some element linking it to the season for which it had been created. There were urns tumbling with greenery and individually sculpted blossoms. There were animals of every type, both real and fabled. And there were figurines by the dozen. Gods, goddesses and demons from mythology; famous people from history; characters from the works of Shakespeare and the more recent plays of Mr Sheridan. Then there were the pieces, like the couple skating or the young girl at her music lesson which contained more than one figure. Seen separately, each was a miniature work of art. Seen all together like this, she suspected that the display would stop anyone’s breath for a moment.

Then Sarah said, ‘There’s one missing.’

‘What?’ asked Anna vaguely.

‘I began by counting them. The snuff boxes are all there but there’s only a hundred and three bottles – so one is missing. We’ll know which it is when I’ve finished checking them against the list.’

Anna gave an absent nod. When she and Nathaniel Lowe had discussed acquiring Lord Reculver’s collection she had known she wanted it – or believed that she did on some half-sentimental, half-theoretical level. But now she had actually seen it, everything was changed. In some unexpected way she didn’t begin to understand, it called to her, making her burningly aware that she didn’t merely want it. She simply had to have it … whatever it took.

Oh damn and blast , she thought. I can’t let that show. If his lordship suspects, even for a second, how badly I want it, he’ll have the only advantage I haven’t already given to him. He’ll win. I’ll end up paying whatever he asks … he’ll smile that deceitful, devastating smile and .. no. No, no, no. That can’t happen.

Something else nagged at her. She and Nathaniel had been of the opinion that Lord Reculver could obtain a better return by selling the pieces separately at auction. Now, having experienced the potent lure of the collection when seen as a whole, Anna was no longer sure that was true. There were a number of serious ceramic collectors, some of whom were easily wealthy enough to buy what stood on this table outright; she could even name three of them. And she rather thought that if that particular trio stood where she was standing now, the ensuing bidding war would far exceed what she expected to pay.

‘It’s the peacock from the summer collection of 1776,’ announced Sarah at length. And when Miss Hawthorne gazed blankly back at her, ‘The missing scent bottle?’

‘Ah yes. Well done. Make a note of it, please.’ And dragging her mind back to the task in hand, ‘I suggest we start with the snuff boxes, since there are only twelve of them. What figure has Mr Lowe put on this silver-mounted Orpheus and Eurydice ?’

Just over an hour later the door opened upon Rebecca, who said, ‘Tell me to go away, if you wish. I only came to ask if you would like tea … and to tell you that the doors over there lead to the back terrace, should you wish to take a break at some point and go out for some air.’

Without glancing around, Anna said, ‘Yes. Thank you, Miss Shelbourne. As for –’

‘Please do call me Rebecca.’

‘Rebecca, then. As for the tea … later, perhaps?’

‘Of course.’ There was an odd little pause during which Rebecca hovered, twisting her hands together. Then she said baldly, ‘Actually, I’d appreciate it if we could have a private word. I promise it won’t take long.’

Now what? thought Anna, impatiently. But said, ‘Very well. Carry on without me, Sarah – and if there are queries, just put them to one side.’ And to Rebecca, gesturing to the terrace doors, ‘Shall we?’

Once outside with the doors closed behind them, Rebecca walked a little further from the house in silence and finally said, ‘May I count on your discretion, Miss Hawthorne?’

‘Certainly.’

‘Well, then … as you heard earlier, the scent bottles belong to my mother, all of them being gifts from my father. Naturally, she is reluctant to part with them – hence her attitude towards you. I wanted you to know that it isn’t at all personal and that she isn’t usually rude.’

‘I had assumed as much,’ replied Anna. ‘But thank you for telling me.’ She waited. Then, when Rebecca continued to stand there, hands clenched tight over each other, ‘Was there anything else?’

‘Yes. Please don’t judge my brother too harshly either. He – he inherited unexpected problems which he is dealing with as best he can. He’s worried about many things but mostly about Mama and me.’ She looked Anna in the eye and added, ‘He’s doing what he must. And he’s finding it hard because it requires him to set aside who he is in favour of who he needs to be. Do you understand what I mean?’

‘I think so … although I’m not at all sure why you are telling me.’

‘I’m not, either,’ Rebecca admitted. Then, in a rush as if the floodgates had opened, ‘Probably because he’s the best brother in the world and I can’t bear anyone to think ill of him when what is happening to him isn’t his fault! ’ She dashed a hand across her eyes and said brightly, ‘There. That’s all I wanted to say. Thank you for listening.’ With a vague wave in the direction of the house, she added, ‘I’ll go back in a different way.’ And sped off.

Anna watched her go, various thoughts jostling each other in her head until just two images remained. A handsome, auburn-haired gentleman laughing and twirling his little sister around below that schoolroom window; and the rare smiles and watchful eyes of Viscount Reculver after dinner last night. The same man … and yet, as she’d already concluded, not.

He'd asked about Hawthorne’s and seemed genuinely interested. That had encouraged her to talk and, as usually happened, she’d let her enthusiasm carry her away to the point where she’d said more than she meant to. She could not, in all conscience, blame him for what she’d done herself.

Thoughtfully, she walked back inside wondering just how bad things really were here at Reculver.

***

Daniel spent the day as he spent nearly every day. The morning, at his desk, working out which bills he could or should pay and which must wait; and the afternoon riding around the estate dealing with other problems entirely … often by rolling up his sleeves and doing what he could with his own hands; inept though he was, the tenants appreciated him trying and regarded his efforts with a sort of sympathetic indulgence.

Today he’d been attempting to repair the damaged thatch on Mr Turner’s barn roof – Mr Turner himself being laid low with a touch of ague and Mrs Turner worrying about coming rain. Since, as usual, Daniel hadn’t known how best to do the job, a couple of old fellows, too ancient to climb ladders themselves, sat below offering the benefit of their experience. Most of this being contradictory, it was less helpful than it might have been. On another occasion, Daniel might have found it funny. Today, however, he was merely aware of it taking twice as long as it should, of the scratches on his hands and the ache in his back. And worse than any of this, that he was going to spend the evening making conversation over dinner with Miss Hawthorne and, for Rebecca’s sake, trying not to say anything contentious. He had also, he told himself, better insist on Mother joining them – and being as pleasant as she would be towards any other guest.

He returned home with barely enough time to make himself presentable and took the shortcut across the garden from the stables. It was typical of his luck in general that he swung on to the path leading to the rear terrace and walked virtually straight into Miss Hawthorne.

She had already changed into the same lilac gown as last night.

He, by contrast, was filthy, dishevelled and already not in the best of humours. Unfortunately, common courtesy didn’t permit him to simply nod and walk on. He said, ‘Forgive both my appearance and my haste, ma’am. I am later than I intended and in urgent need of a bath – but I look forward to – ’

‘Go, sir,’ she said. ‘Do not delay on my account. Just go.’

‘Thank you,’ replied Daniel with real gratitude. And strode away.

Anna stared after him, taking in the state of his coat and hands and the absence of vest or cravat. All these were the answer to the question she’d been pondering this morning after that peculiar conversation with his sister. Titled gentlemen did not normally do manual labour. Those she had met in London, for example, would have been horrified at the mere thought and probably physically incapable of it if they’d tried. Lord Reculver, she suspected, had muscles to match those splendid shoulders and –

She checked her wandering thoughts. She had no business noticing his lordship’s shoulders or anything else about his person. What she could consider was that if he had spent part of his day working, there was either a need or a very good reason for it. Or both.

Inside the house and passing his sister en route for his bedchamber, Daniel said, ‘I’m late, Becky. Please tell Mother that I expect her to join us downstairs this evening and to be on her best behaviour – as I shall be. Make sure she understands that it is not a request.’

Rebecca watched him disappear into his room and shook her head ruefully. Mama, she reflected, would do as he’d asked. But she wasn’t going to like it.

Returning to the house just in time to avoid the first spots of rain, Anna was informed that she would find the ladies in the drawing-room. She hoped Lady Reculver’s mood was better than it had been at breakfast. She had avoided the possibility of a chance meeting throughout the day by asking for a luncheon tray to be served to Sarah and herself in the dining-room. They’d eaten and continued working until around four o’clock. Then she’d insisted on leaving everything tidy for the next day before telling Sarah to go and rest for an hour or two. She herself sat reading through the notes they had made before going upstairs to wash and change – after which, realising she had a little time in hand, she’d decided on a stroll in the garden to clear her head. Her meeting with his lordship had not helped at all in that regard.

When she entered the drawing-room, Rebecca rose and smiled at her, saying, ‘You seem to have been hard at it all day. How are things progressing?’

‘Very well, thank you.’ Anna curtsied to the dowager and added, ‘It is a very fine collection, my lady. I don’t blame you for wishing to keep it. So would I, in your shoes.’

‘If you and my son reach an agreement, you will be keeping it, won’t you?’

‘Mama,’ began Rebecca warningly.

Anna stopped her with a quick shake of her head, saying, ‘No. Her ladyship is perfectly right. I do want the collection on permanent exhibition at Hawthorne’s.’

She paused, suddenly seeing a way of making this easier – not just for Lady Reculver but also for her son and daughter – and almost opened her mouth to say so. Then she put the idea aside for consideration later. She’d blurted out something without due thought last evening and didn’t intend to make the same mistake again. Fortunately, however, there was something else she could offer.

Looking Lady Reculver in the eye, she said slowly, ‘One of the scent bottles is missing – as, I think, you are fully aware.’

‘And if it is and I am?’ came the sharp reply.

‘It’s quite all right, ma’am,’ returned Anna. ‘I know which it is and can perfectly understand why you would wish to keep it.’

‘What? No. You can’t possibly –’ She stopped, looking confused. Then, ‘Well?’

‘It’s the silver-mounted peacock. The last bottle your late husband purchased. Of course you wish to keep it.’

Entering in time to hear these last words, Daniel said, ‘Keep what?’

No one answered him. Rebecca, because she wasn’t sure what was going on; Anna and the dowager because they were locked in eye to eye combat. Then Anna dissolved the tension by saying, ‘And I see no reason why – even if Hawthorne’s do acquire the rest of the collection which, as we are all aware, is by no means certain yet – you should not do so.’

‘You … you don’t?’

‘No. It would be foolish of me to quibble over a single piece of particular sentimental value, ma’am – or even two such. So perhaps you might also like to keep the first bottle … if you can recall which that was?’

‘It was the Music Lesson ,’ replied her ladyship promptly, her voice not quite steady. ‘The young girl with the lute and – and her tutor looking on over her shoulder.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Anna simply. ‘It was.’

‘You are saying that I may have that one, too?’

‘Not that exactly – since the piece is yours, ma’am. But it need not be included in the collection for the purposes of the sale. I will send it to your rooms in the morning.’

‘That is … generous. I hardly know what to say.’

‘Thank you?’ suggested Rebecca.

‘Yes. Of course. Thank you.’ Lady Reculver dabbed at her eyes. ‘Forgive me. I had not expected this and fear that I am a – a trifle overcome.’

Smiling faintly, Daniel broke what might have become an awkward pause by saying lightly, ‘Turning the tables on me by taking the moral high ground, Miss Hawthorne?’

‘Merely not making this any more painful than it needs to be,’ she retorted. ‘ One of us should, don’t you think?’

‘Oh – undoubtedly. And when I find a similarly inexpensive concession you may be sure I will offer it.’

‘Stop it, Daniel,’ muttered Rebecca.

‘No,’ said Anna. ‘He’s right. It does cost me very little.’ And bluntly to Daniel, ‘In due course, I shall be making you an offer, my lord. So perhaps this conversation should be postponed until I do?’

‘Oh – quite.’ He turned away to pour sherry. ‘I take it you have made satisfactory progress today?’

‘Very much so. We have valued all of the snuff boxes and eighteen of the scent bottles. I had hoped we might finish tomorrow … but suspect it may take a further half day. I hope this will not present a problem?’

‘It won’t.’ Daniel handed glasses first to his mother and to Anna, then his sister before picking up his own. ‘Mama, is there something in the stillroom that will reduce a fever?’

‘Of course.Why?’

‘Send some to Turner’s farm, please. Harry is laid low at present. And the sooner he recovers, the sooner he can repair his own barn roof.’

‘I’ll take it,’ offered Rebecca. Then, ‘Is that what you were doing this afternoon?’

‘For my sins, yes – under the critical eyes of Grandfather Turner and Uncle Zachary.’

She laughed. ‘Oh dear.’

‘I’m glad you find it funny. I wish I could.’

‘It isn’t funny,’ said his mother firmly. ‘And neither is it either fitting or dignified. I don’t know why you do it – it can’t be necessary.’

Not in any way you’d understand , thought Daniel. But it’s necessary to me. I can’t mend the big problems … but helping mend the little ones stops me going insane and buys me credit with the tenants by showing that I care and would do more if I could .

But there was no use saying that, so he said instead, ‘I know that. But it’s cheaper than the alternative.’

‘Which is what, exactly?’

‘Draining the five acre field at Old Fallow. Lending a hand with the barn will stop Harry Turner asking about it for a week or two.’ Daniel drained his glass and summoned a grin. ‘It’s not all bad news. At least the exercise must be good for me. Now … Flynn is doubtless ready to serve dinner. Shall we go through?’

***

Later, sitting alone by the dying fire, Daniel tried to decide what to make of Anna Hawthorne. He couldn’t work out whether her generosity to Mother had been made out of kindness or a desire to wrong-foot him. It could be either one. Unless his reading of her was completely adrift, she was extremely shrewd when it came to matters of business and accustomed to considering all the possible angles.

It occurred to him that, as little as six or seven months ago, she’d have run rings around him. Now, courtesy of his current troubles, he had learned a good many things – enough, he hoped, to hold his own when they started talking money.

As presumably always happened in such dealings, her first offer would not be the best price she was prepared to pay, so he knew he could refuse that one with impunity. The same might also be true of the second. But after that? After that, he wouldn’t be sure how far he dared push her … or whether, in fact, he dared push at all. Everything depended on how badly she wanted the collection and, at present, he couldn’t read her well enough to decide that.

He'd thought he had her measure. She was blunt, single-minded and every inch the business woman. But her voluntary surrender of two of the scent bottles had muddied the water. Had she really done that purely in order to make his mother less opposed to selling the rest? Or had she some other, possibly devious motive he hadn’t perceived yet? Just because he couldn’t figure out what it might be, didn’t mean there wasn’t one.

God , he thought, tipping his head against the chair back. I’m so bloody sick of thinking and guessing and trying. It’s like emptying the sea with a bucket. I know it can’t be done but I keep trudging back and forth with the pail regardless. Even if she offers what Father paid and hands me a thousand pounds, plus whatever the snuff boxes are worth … what is the best use for it and how much good will it do? I can mend some cottages, replace some antiquated machinery and drain that damned field. But none of that will be enough to make the estate pay. And unless I can do that , not only will there be no Season for Becky, it will merely be a matter of time before I’m back exactly where I am right now. Trapped in one of Dante’s circles of hell.

~**~**~