She felt Miss Brown place a hand on her shoulder. No words of comfort were spoken as none would suffice.
* * *
‘Nicholas’s death is a tragedy.’
Sir Robert stopped tapping his fingertips on the curved wood of the chaise longue. ‘It is tragic, not a tragedy,’ he corrected. The tapping began again. Tap, tap, tap.
Howard ignored him. ‘A terrible business. Just terrible,’ he said, shaking his head and withdrawing a letter from his jacket pocket. He placed it on the table. ‘A letter from Edith. She offers her condolences. Nicholas’s passing has brought back some unhappy memories for her so she is not up to visiting at the moment.’ He patted the pockets of his jacket searching for his cigars. Finally he located them, withdrew the brown tortoiseshell case and selected one from the three he had brought with him. He made himself comfortable in an armchair by the fire. ‘Where is Beatrice?’
‘In her room. She is not up to visitors yet.’
Howard raised his eyebrows. Beatrice had suffered several convenient maladies of late, but now was not the time to voice it.
‘Nicholas never fully recovered from his illness last year. I saw it. Your wife feared it. I believe even Nicholas knew it. It was only you who kept your head buried in the sand.’
Sir Robert said nothing.Tap, tap, tap.
‘I do understand what you are going through,’ Howard continued as he located his matches. ‘I know we have not seen eye to eye, but I would never have wished this to have happened.’
‘No one can understand.’
‘I do,’ said Howard, sucking loudly on his cigar to encourage it to light. He settled back in his chair amidst a cloud of grey smoke. ‘We lost four babies before Mawgan.’
None of which even drew breath, thought Sir Robert, bitterly. Nicholas had not long turned sixteen years old. He was on the verge of manhood. Now we have nothing. Nothing!Tap, tap, tap.
‘But one must be sensible and not let grief overrun us.’ Howard watched the smoke rise. ‘Life must go on.’
‘Which is why you are here.’
Howard had the good grace to look embarrassed. ‘Well no, I came to offer my support.’
‘And talk of the future of Carrack Estate.’
‘Well, it must be a worry for you.’
The tapping stopped. ‘Spit it out, Howard. We know this is not a visit of condolence.’
‘There is no need to be quarrelsome.’
They sat in silence for a moment. Sir Robert ran a hand over his brow in defeat. Not long ago everything was in order and the future mapped out, now everything was in chaos.
‘Carrack Estate is a heavy burden, Robert,’ Howard said as he surveyed the room. ‘Each owner never truly owns Carrack. They are its guardians, to care for it until it moves on to the next generation in the family. You do the job well.’ He looked aroundthe room, blowing a trail of smoke as he did so. ‘I see not much has changed here since the last time I was invited inside.’
Sir Robert, feeling stifled, got up briskly and walked to his desk. Some of Evelyn’s paintings were strewn across the polished surface, a gift from her the evening before. He had barely looked at them. He did so now for the want of something to do as his brother droned on behind him.
‘No one wants to go down in history as the person who lost it to another family,’ Howard was saying. ‘Upon your death, and in accordance to the remainder in default of a male issue, the title of baronet will pass to me, or if I am already dead, to Mawgan.’ In the absence of a reply, Howard continued. ‘I think we agree that the latter is the more likely to occur as, out of the two of us, you have enjoyed better health than I. It is only right for the future baronet to live at Carrack House.’ Howard smiled, confident that his own demise was some years off yet, but Sir Robert did not notice. His attention was held by his daughter’s paintings. He selected one to look at it more closely. They were surprisingly good, capturing both the vibrant colours of summer, and the rich golds of autumn in delicate watercolour. The work was detailed, yet dreamlike, devotedly painted by someone who loved the gardens as much as he. He looked up. As if on cue, Evelyn strolled across the grand lawn, accompanied by her governess.
‘My son will make a fine custodian. It might be best if he spends more time here. He will need to learn, at first hand, about the running of the estate . . .’
His daughter stopped to talk to a young gardener with black hair. It was breezy outside, but his daughter did not seem to mind the chill. She appeared at ease, taking the lead in the conversation as if she was a lady asking questions of her staff, not a child guided by the adult in her company. Sir Robertfrowned. For the first time he saw his daughter as the woman she would become, not the child he thought he still had.
‘I will help, of course,’ his brother was saying. ‘I can introduce him to his future tenants—’
Sir Robert bristled at the thought. ‘No!’ he blurted out. He turned to face a shocked Howard. For the first time in weeks, he felt he was regaining some control. Some may call him radical, others foolhardy — but in truth he was being plain obstinate. He would never leave Carrack House in the hands of his brother’s child — even if it meant bequeathing it to a woman.
‘Carrack has a guardian for the future.’
‘Who?’
