“The Lady Esther Franklyn and Miss Franklyn have called, sir.”
Bertram, writing furiously in a notebook, chose not to reply.
Carter coughed again. “The mistress and the young ladies are entertaining her ladyship and Miss Franklyn in the drawing room, sir.”
With the sentence in his head satisfactorily set down on paper, Bertram sighed, laid aside his pen and removed his spectacles. “And this is of interest to me in what way, Carter?”
“Her ladyship asked for you most particularly, sir.”
Another sigh. He had had a great-uncle once who dealt with intrusions by ordering his butler to,‘Tell him he may go to the devil for all I care. I am busy.’And the butler would relay this uncompromising message word for word to the hapless caller. Bertram wished with all his heart that he could do the same. One day, perhaps, when he was old and, he hoped, famous throughout the land for the intellectual rigour of his work, he would perhaps do so, but at the age of twenty-five, and still living under his parents’ roof, the tug of good manners was too strong.
He sighed yet again, rose and donned his coat before making his way to the drawing room. Miss Franklyn bounced acrossthe room before he had even completed his courtesies to Lady Esther. Tucking her arm in his, she said cheerfully, “There you are, Bertram! At last you are at home when we call! Were you hiding away from me?”
“Not at all,” he said politely. “I have been much engaged with my father at the castle.”
“Preparing for when you are an earl, I dare say. Well, you are here now, so let us sit and talk. We will get a refreshing stream of air from that window, so we shall sit there.”
She towed him across the room to a window seat just wide enough for two, sat at one side of it and patted the seat invitingly. How was a man supposed to deal with such forward behaviour? He could hardly snub her outright, not in his mother’s drawing room, and if Lady Esther saw no need to reprimand her stepdaughter for her unbecoming manners, it was not for him to do so. He glanced at the clock. Ten minutes he would allow her, then he would return to Horace.
“Now then, Bertram,” she said, taking his arm again so decisively that he did not feel he could well disentangle himself, “tell me all about it. Is the earl teaching you how to wear your coronet and robes? How to bow to the king?”
“Nothing of the sort!” he said, discomfort at her closeness making him speak more sharply than he intended. “The earl has invited my father and me to learn about his estates and investments.”
Her eyes visibly became glassy. “Oh,money!How horrid! And very dull, I should think.”
“Not dull, but… complicated.”
“Oh yes, because he must be vastly rich, of course. Eight thousand a year, is it not? Although that is not so very much for an earl, is it? Papa has far more than that. How is Lord Rennington? He has sent Lady Rennington away, I hear, poor lady. She must be very sad.”
“I do not think he has sent her away,” Bertram said. “She has gone to stay with her sister, I believe.”
“Oh, Lady Tarvin? Is that where she has gone? I did not know. Mama was wondering about it only this morning as we drove here.” She raised her voice to carry across the room. “Mama? Mama! Did you hear that? Lady Rennington has gone to Lady Tarvin at Harfield.”
Lady Esther winced at the raised voice and nodded an acknowledgement, but declined to conduct a conversation across the full width of the room.
For a little while, Bea seemed content to talk about the inhabitants of Corland Castle, as Bertram surreptitiously watched the hands of the clock marching slowly onwards to the time when he might consider duty done and withdraw.
But then Bea said, “Mama is planning an evening entertainment — dinner, music, a little dancing and so on. You will come, I hope?”
“It depends when it is.”
“Early next week. Tuesday, I believe.”
“I shall still be here then, so—”
“You are going away?” Her voice rose to a squeak. “When? Where? For how long?”
He could not help laughing at the astonishment in her face. “I do have friends who invite me to stay occasionally, you know. I shall be going to Landerby Manor in Lincolnshire in two weeks, to stay for a month.”
“A month!Two weeks! Goodness! That does not give me much time.”
“To do what, Miss Franklyn?”
“Why, persuade you to marry me, of course.”
He shook his head in bemusement. “I do wish you would give up this idea, ma’am. I am not at all minded to marry at present… perhaps never. I should not like you to waste your time. Whynot try Lucas? He would be far more amenable to your charms, being less distracted by poets dead for two thousand years.”
“Horace, you mean? I asked my father about him, and he found me a book about him in the library, but it is mostly dry stuff. I liked some of his writings, though. The translation, that is, for I cannot read the Latin.”
