She gave me a grudging nod as she took a deep swallow from her own glass. “You have courage at least.” She continued to scrutinise me as I drank, matching her sip for sip.
I waited for her to speak, but she was content to let silence stretch between us, punctuated only occasionally by my coughs and the odd piece of invective from the parrot.
It completed an especially racy limerick just as Nanny came to the end of her drink. “Another!” she said, pouring out a full glass for herself. She seemed not the least affected by the spirit, although my head was beginning to spin. I knew to refuse would be to lose whatever sliver of ground I had gained in sitting down to drink with her, so I accepted a second glass. She opened a box on the table beside her and drew out a small, very dark cigarette. A second box, where she must have kept her store of vestas, proved empty, and she clucked in irritation.
“Permit me,” I said, reaching into one of my capacious pockets. Iproduced a vesta and struck it, leaning forward to light her cigarette. She drew in a deep lungful of smoke, puffing it out until a little wreath circled her head.
When she had made herself comfortable with cigarette and parsnip wine, she settled back in her chair and began to speak.
“I do not like you,” she said plainly.
“I did not expect you to do so,” I replied with equal candour.
“My Stokie is special.”
“On that we are entirely in agreement,” I said.
“He is a sensitive soul. Like his father.” She watched me closely as she spoke, no doubt wondering if I knew the truth of his parentage. From all I had learnt of the late Lord Templeton-Vane, an African rhinoceros boasted greater sensitivity. She was clearly speaking of Stoker’s actual sire, the Irish portraitist who had come to paint Lady Templeton-Vane and done a good deal more.
“Artists are often thus,” I said, parrying the thrust.
“So you know the late lord was not the one who had the getting of him?” she asked with narrowed eyes.
“I do. It changes nothing. Children should not bear the weight of the sins of the parents.”
She gave a grudging nod. “That much we agree upon.” She sat back in her chair, her expression one of fond nostalgia. “I came here as a girl, you know. I’d been nurserymaid to the late Lady Templeton-Vane when she were wee, and she wanted no one else to nanny her boys. ‘Nanny,’ she said, ‘Nanny, I trust no one so much as you. I know with you, my boys will grow to be fine men.’ ”
“That they have done so is a credit to your good care of them,” I said.
“Aye. Fine men, all four of them. Too good for the likes of you,” she said, narrowing her eyes and pointing her cigarette at me.
“I beg your pardon?”
“ ’Tisn’t your fault,” she said mildly. “I say nothing against you.” Shepaused and I sensed that she would have enjoyed saying a good number of things against me. “But there’s not a woman born good enough for my lads.”
“Lord Templeton-Vane has been married,” I pointed out.
She snorted. “A duke’s daughter with two centuries of inbreeding in her bloodline? She didn’t last out the year. She hadn’t thebottomto handle a man of spirit like my wee Tibbie. And the less said on that monstrous Caroline, the better.”
Tibbie! The mind reeled. “I never met the poor lady, so I cannot say. But having made the acquaintance of Stoker’s former wife, I quite agree that Caroline is a thoroughly nasty woman and it’s rather a pity she has not met with a hungry crocodile. However, I must protest as to the character of Sir Rupert’s wife. I had the pleasure of meeting Lavinia last year, and I found her thoroughly charming and quite spirited.”
She snorted, a noise the parrot immediately imitated, one of the most distasteful sounds I have ever encountered. “Jumped-up, that one is. Her great-grandfather wasin trade,you know.”
“Hergreat-grandfather? But her father is an earl,” I pointed out.
“New aristocracy,” she said, pulling a face. “Hardly better than those German upstarts on the throne.”
Nanny’s opinion was not entirely surprising. Many of the old aristocracy of England had lost their regard for the royal family when Queen Anne died and the Hanoverians ascended the throne. The fact that George I had not spoken English had done nothing to endear him to the powerful Whig families who considered themselves the true backbone of the nation, and his unattractive mistresses had impressed them still less. The news that the current German branch of royals happened to be my extended family was not one I cared to share with Nanny.
She went on. “I invited you here to make certain we understand one another, my girl. I am taking your measure, and thus far I have found you wanting.”
I set my glass carefully aside and fixed a polite smile upon my lips.
“Thank you for the wine, Nanny MacQueen. You have certainly given me much to think about.”
I rose, but Nanny remained seated. With the parrot perched near her shoulder, she resembled an elderly lady pirate.
She fixed me with a warning look. “If you think to make trouble for my boy—”
